
riass Ij H ki..) 



JOURNAL 

OF A 
RESIDENCE DURING SEVERAL MONTHS 

IN LONDON; 

INCLUDING EXCURSIONS 

THROUGH VARIOUS PARTS OF ENGLAND 

AND A SHORT 

TOUR IN FRANCE AND SCOTLAND ; 

IN THE 

YEARS 1823 AND 1824. 



BY NATHANIEL S^ WHEATON, A. M. 

RECTOR OF CHRIST CHUHCH, HARTFORD. 



HARTFORD : 

PUBLISHED BY H. & F. J. HUNTINGTON 

G. AND C. AND H. CARVILL, NEW-YORK. 

RICHARDSON, LORD Si HOLBROOK, 

CARTER & HENDEE, BOSTON. 

MDCCCXXX. 



DISTRICT or CONNECTICUT, SS, 

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the first day of January in the fifty- 
^'^ V y^" ^^ *^^ Independence of the United States of America, 
. Nathaniel S. Wheaton, of the said district, has deposited in this office 
the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as Proprietor, in the words 
following, to wit : " A Journal of a residence during several months in Lon- 
don ; including excursions through various parts of England ; and a short 
tour m France and Scotland ; in the years 1823 and 1824. By Nathaniel S. 
Wheaton, A. M., Rector of Christ Church, Hartford." 
In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled. 
An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, 
Charts and Booi£s, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
times therein mentioned."--Aud also to the act, entitled, "An act supple- 
mentary to an act, entitled ' An act for the encouragement of learning, by 
securing the copies ofmaps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprie- 
tors of such copies during the times therein mentioned,' and extending the 
benehts thereof to the arts of designing, engravinar, and etching historical 
and other prints." t=> b s, s 

CHARLES A. INGERSOLL, 

Clerk of the District of Connecticut. 
A true copy of record, examined and sealed by me, 

CHARLES A. INGERSOLL, 

Clerk of the District of Connecticut. 



PHILEMON CANFIELD, PRINTER. 






Yic 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The following pages were written for the Authors 
own amusement and that of his friends, during a year 
passed principally in England ; and to aid him in his- 
recollection, at any future period, of the persons with 
whom he happened to be conversant, and of the objects 
and scenes which attracted his attention : but not with 
the slightest expectation that they would ever be laid 
before the public. As they were supposed, by some of 
his friends who perused them in manuscript, to contain 
information on the existing state of the Church of Eng- 
land, and the religious aspect of the metropolis, which 
might be interesting to Episcopalians in this country, he 
was easily prevailed upon to select large portions for 
publication in the Episcopal Watchman. His remarks 
having thus, in a degree, been made publick, there ap- 
peared to be no sufficient reason for withholdmg his con- 
sent to a proposition of his book-seller, to collect and 
publish the scattered " Notes of a Traveller" in a sepa- 
rate form. Whether they are worthy of the honour of 
being made into a book, is a point, which the author has 
allowed to be decided by others. His sensibility as to 
the reception his Journal may meet with, in its present 
form, is not excessive ; as the reputation of authorship 
formed no part of his original design. 



VI ADVERTISEMENT. 

To the surprise, expressed by some of his readers, at 
the very qualified approbation bestowed on the pulpit 
talents and pastoral instructions of many of the English 
clergy, the writer has but one reply to make — that he 
has endeavoured to describe them as he found them ; 
nor is he conscious of having done less than justice in a 
single instance. His remarks were almost always 
written down on the spot, and while the impressions 
were yet fresh on his mind. It was his constant purpose 
to describe accurately what he saw, and what he heard ; 
and to indulge as little as possible in general inferences, 
which are very apt to be fallacious, and are always un- 
satisfactory. With a veneration, felt in common with 
most of his readers, for a church, which has trained and 
sent forth so many gigantic defenders of the Reformed 
Faith — so many eloquent heralds of salvation, he was 
perhaps prepared to expect too much from its living 
apostles ; and this may have given a colouring to his nar- 
rative which he would be the first to deprecate, if it should 
lead in a single instance to unjust conclusions. Still, 
he must believe, that to have been less sparing of the 
language of eulogy on living preachers, would have ren- 
dered his remarks less worthy of confidence. 
Hartford, December, 1829. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. Voyage across the Atlantic. ... 13 

CHAPTER TI. Liverpool— St. George's Chapel— Asylum for the 
Blind — Docks, &c 26 

CHAPTER HI. Ride to Birmingham— Stafford— Wolverhampton- 
Birmingham — Musical Festival — Braham — Mrs. Salmon — Miss Ste- 
phens — Madame Catalani — Ride to London — Dr. Parr — Warwick 
Castle — Oxford — London. 31 

CHAPTER IV. London— St. Paul's— Bow Church— St. Clement's 
Danes — St. Andrew's, Holborn — Fulham — Bishop of London — 
Fulham Church-yard — Tombs of the Bishops — Walk to London. 38 

CHAPTER V. Hamstead— Statue in Hyde Park— A Radical Par- 
son — Rev. T. H. Home — Christ Church — Preacher at St, Anns — 
Dr. Rudge— Mr. Irving— Dr. Gaskin— Dr. Watts. . . 48 

CHAPTER VI. London Atmosphere — Murder of Weare— Popular 
Engravings — Caricatures — The Temple — Tombs of the Crusaders — 
Dean of Winchester. ....... 56 

CHAPTER VL Jews of London— Sir J. A. P.— Anecdotes of Lord 
Thurlow and Bishop Horsley — Magdalen Hospital — Bishop of Dur- 
ham — Harrow — Author of the Velvet Cushion. . . 64 

CHAPTER Vn. St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row— Ride to Ely- 
Ware — Cambridge — Ely — Chapel of our Lady — Remains of Con- 
ventual Church, &c. . ...... 70 

CHAPTER VIII.— Cambridge— Professor Smy the— Lectures on Mod- 
ern History — Feast of the Audit — Rev. Charles Simeon — Professor 
Lee 78 

CHAPTER IX. — Cambridge — ^Libraries — Union Society — Sunday — 
Catherine Hall — Government of the University — Description of 
Cambridge — King's College Chapel — Ancient Tower — Observatory 
— Hobson. .. . . . . .88 

CHAPTER IX. Departure from Cambridge — Huntingdon — Burleigh 
House — Leicester — Rothly Temple — Cardinal Wolsey — Ride to 
Lutterworth — Cotesbatch — Wickliff — Rugby. . . 101 

CHAPTER X. Departure from Lutterworth....Ride to St. Alban's..., 
Northampton....St. Alban's... .Abbey Church,..Humphrey the Good 
....Antiquities and Remains.... Departure for London... .Bishop of St. 
David's,...Rev. J. Pratt 110 

CHAPTER XI.— Ramble about London— Guildhall— Court ot King's 

Bench — -Billingsgate Custom- House The Tower Exeter 

'Change. . .119 



VIII CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XII. Consecration of a Church— Visit to Higham Hill 
* — Economy of Londoners — Mr. Campbell the Missionary — Anec- 
dotes—Sunday Morning at Surrey Chapel — Rowland Hill — St. 
Paul's — Sir Christopher Wren — Church Missionary Society — Rev. 
Charles Jerram. ... . . . 126 

CHAPTER XIII.— Aldenham Abbey— Sir C. Pole— Mr. Marsden— 
Rev. Mr. Crowther — The Tabernacle — Scene at Lincoln's Inn — 
Judges of the Courts — Westminster Hall — London Docks — East 
Cheap — Goldsmith. ....... 136 

CHAPTER XIV. Caledonian Chapel— Rev. Edward Irving— British 
Bluseum — Extortions of English Servants — Editor of the Christian 
Observer — Diorama — Arch- deacon Blomfield — Earl S. — Barclay 
and Company's Brewery. . . . . . 145 

CPI APTER XV. French and Turkish Pieces of Ordnance— Mr. Wil- 
berforce — Long Acre Chapel — St. Pancras' New Church — St. Ma- 
ry's, Aldormary — St. Mary's, Islington — General Remarks — Actor 
in Distress — Contrasts — Percy Chapel — Rev. Mr. Macneil — English 
Ladies. 155 

CHAPTER XVI. Excursion to Richmond — Twickenham — Hamp- 
ton Court — Cartoons — St. James', Piccadilly — St. Mary-Le-Bone — 
Dr. Busfield — House of Commons — Attack on the Lord Chancellor 
— Mr. Williams — Mr. Peel — Mr. Brougham — Mr. Canning — Mr. 
Robinson. .......... 164 

CHAPTER XVI r. Sir T. D. Acland— Dinner and Meeting of the 
Royal Society — Sir Humphrey Davy — Ely Chapel — Salter's Hall 
Chapel — Dr. Collyer — Dinner at Mr. Stratford Canning's — Sir 
James Macintosh — Arch Deacon Pott — Anniversary Sermon — 
Church Patronage. • . . . . . . 175 

CHAPTER XVIII. Parks in London— View from Piccadilly— Hyde 

Park Regent's Park Squares — Foundling Hospital — Craven 

Chapel — the Bazaar — Art of Walking in the Metropolis Cos- 
tume of the Bar — St. Martin's-in-the-Fields — Ride to Leicester — 
Deformity. ....... 185 

CHAPTER XIX. Dress of English Labourers — Beggary in London 
— Dinner Party and Anecdotes — Bishop of Bristol — House of Lords 
— Funeral of Sir George Collier — Central National School — Lord 
Kenyon — Manners of the English. ..... 194 

CHAPTER XX. House of Lords— Unitarian Bill— Lords Lans- 
downe — King — Kingston, &c. — Lord Holland — Archbishop of Can- 
terbury — Earl of Westmoreland — Earl of Liverpool — Lord Eldon — 
Duke of York — Duke of Wellington — Reporters — Eloquence of the 
English 202 

CHAPTER XXI. Indid House— St. Olave's— Charity Children of 
St. Sepulchre's — Archbishop of Canterbury — Lambeth Palace — 
British Institution — Bedford Chapel — Archbishop of York — Bishop 
of London — Dean Andrewes — Dr. Hodgson — Promenade in Hyde 
Park 209 

CHAPTER XXII. Anniversary of the Hospitals—" The Tenth"— 
Nash the Architect — Birth Day — St. Stephen's, Walbrook — Want 
of New Churches — Church Missionary Society — Lord Gambier — 
J. Thornton, Esq. — Lord Barhara — Mr. C. Grant — Bishop of Litch- 



CONTENTS. IX 

field — Rev. Mr. Sibthorp — Rev. J. Parsons— Rev. Mr. Cunningham 
—Rev. F. Elwin 220 

CHAPTER XXIII. British and Foreign Bible Society— Lord Har- 
rowby — Lord Roden — Count Verhuil — LordBexley — Mr. C. Grant 
— Dr. Morrison — Rev. Mr. Brandom — Rev. J. Townsend. 230 

CHAPTER XXIV. Examination at the Charter-House Rev. 

Charles Sumner — Bishop of Limerick — Meeting of the African So- 
ciety — Lord Lansdowne— T. F. Buxton, Esq.— Hon. Mr. Noel- 
Bishop of Durham — Rev. Leigh Richmond — St. Luke's Chapel — 
Rev. Sidney Smith — Drawing-Room at St. Jame's — Anniversary 
at St. Paul's — Kensington Gardens — Church — Quebec Chapel — 
Remarks. 237 

CHAPTER XXV. Ride to Oxford— Uxbridge— High Wycombe- 
Oxford — Preachers— Library of Christ Church — Lecture — Dr. Cop- 
leston — Addison's Walk — Bodleian Library — Pomfret Statues — 
Rowing Match— Chapel of New College — S'tained Glass. . 248 

CHAPTER XXVI. Oxford— Picture Gallery— Ashmolean Museum 
— Professor Buckland — Bell of Christ Church — Radcliif Library — 
High Street — Distant view of Oxford — Cumnor Hall — Annoyances 
— Return to London. 258 

CHAPTER XXVII. London — A Lazy Parson — Spring- and Langan 
— Anniversary of Charily Children at St. Paul's — Preacher at Aud- 
ley Chapel — Ballooning — Ascent from Pentonville. . . 267 

CHAPTER XXVIII. Rev. Christopher Benson— St. Paul's, Covent 
' Garden — Rev. H. H. Milman — House of Commons — Mr. Hume — 
Mr. Hobhouse — Lord Eastnor — Sir F. Burdett — Sir J. Newport — 
Mr. C. Hutchinson — Anniversary of the Anti-Slavery Society — 
Mr. Stephen — T. Macauley, Esq. — Dr. Lushington — Mr. Wilber- 
force — Duke of Gloucester — Remarks on the Abolitionists. . 273 

CHAPTER XXIX. A Highlander— Dinner at Lord C—'s— Conver- 
sation — Anecdote of Fox — Dr. R. — London Cruelty — Lock Hospi- 
tal — Dr. Thorp — Ride to Bath — Reading — Newberry — Marlbo^ 
rough — Barrows — Melksham — Bath. .... 2C2 

CHAPTER XXX. Bath Springs Pump-Room Huntington 

Chapel — Beechen Cliff— View of Bath and Environs — -Legendary 
History — Beau Nash — Squabbles in High Life — View from Prospect 
Point — Bath Abbey — Wesleyan Chapel — Christ Church — Walk to 
Claverton Downs — Quarries — Architecture of Bath. . 290 

CHAPTER XXXI. Bristol— Brandon Hill— RedclifF Church— Clif- 
ton — The Roman Camp — Scenery — Ride to Wrington — Barley 
Wood — ^Pleasure Grounds and Scenery — Hannah More — Conver- 
sations — Remarks. . 304 

CHAPTER XXXII. Ride to Bridgewater—Scenery— Bridgewater— 
Sedgemoor — Glastonbury — Ruins of the Abbey — The Torr — Ride 
to Salisbury — Fonthill Abbey — Salisbury — Cathedral — .Architectv 
ure, Monuments, &c. — Return to London — Bagshot Heath — Milita* 
ry School— Runny-Mead — Rolls Chapel — -Observance of Sunday. 

313 



X CO?<ITENTS. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. Westminster Abbey— Chapel of Henry VII.— 
Poet's Coiner — Monuments of Addisoft, Shakspeare, Handel, &c. 
— Remarks — Excursion to Richmond— Scenery on the River — View 
from Richmond Hill — Village — Thompson's Grave — Sunday at the 
Abbey, and St. Mary Woolnoth — Preparation to leave London. 321 

CHAPTER XXXIV.— Ride to Brighton— Nakedness of the Country 
— Brighton — Royal Pavilion — Chain Pier — Steam-Boat — Passage 
to Dieppe — Vexations on Landing — Hotel du Roi d' Angleterre — 
Town and Harbour of Dieppe — Costume of Inhabitants — Castle — 
Departure for Rouen. ........ 330 

CHAPTER XXXV. A French Diligence— Setting Off— Hill of St. 
Aubin — Country — Valley of Malaunay — The Seine — Rouen — View 
of the City — Cathedral — Church of the Benedictines — Mendicity — 
Peasantry — Dinner at the Hotel — Departure for Paris— Poatoise — 
St. Denis— Paris 337 

CHAPTER XXXVI. Paris— Streets— Habits and Amusements of 
the Parisians — The Boulevards— Taste in the Fine Arts — Gardens 
of the Tbuilleries, of the Luxembourg, of the Palais Royal — Mont- 
martre — View from its summit — Defence against the Allied Forces — 
Scene in the Suburbs — Disregard of the Lord's Day — Fete of the 
Assomption — Cathedral of Notre Dame — Mass for the Dead. 343 

CHAPTER XXXVII. Ride to Versailles— St. Cloud— Gardens of 
Versailles — Basin of Neptune — Basin of Apollo — The Rock — Basin 
of Latona — Grand Trianon — Petit Trianon — RoyalChapel at Ver- 
sailles-Hall of Hercules — Grand Gallery — Return to Paris. 355 

CHAPTER XXXVIIL Cemetery of Pere la Chaise— Promenade 
Philosophique— Tomb of Abelard and Eloisa — Of Massena — Le- 
febvre — Serrurier — Ney, &c. — Reflections on the Taste of the 
French — Dress of the Parisians — Palais Royal — Gambling — Ingenu- 
ity of Beggars. , 363 

CHAPTER XXXIX. Vincennes— Castle and Moat— Murder of the 
Duke d'Enghein — View from the Pyramid — Disagreeable Interrup- 
tion—Wood of Vincennes — Forbidden Ground — Paris — Place of 
the Bastile — The Thuilleries— The Louvre — Palace of the Luxem- 
bourg — Hotel des Invalides — The Bourse — Triumphal Arches — 
Bridges — Palaces — Fountains 372 

CHAPTER XL. Paris— The Elysian Fields— Champ de Mars- 
Royal Garden of Plants — Caf^s — Restaurateurs — Hotels — Passport 
— Scene at the Royal Messagerie — Departure from Paris — A J'atal- 
ist — View from the Heights of Ecouen — Criel — Clermont — Amiens 
Cathedral— St. Omers— Calais. 382 

CHAPTER XLL Calais— Ramble— View from the Ramparts— Em- 
barkation — Storm — Arrival at Dover — Extortion — Description of 
Dover — Castle — Cliffs — Ride to Canterbury — Cathedral — Scenery 
in Kent Chatham — Rochester — Gravesend — Blackheath Ap- 
proach to London — Arrival at Charing Cross — Reflections. 39 1 

CHAPTER XLIL Final Departure from London— Mail Coaches at 
Islington — Bedford — Singular Humour of the Coachman — River 
Trent, and Nottingham — H. K. White — Sherwood Forest — Bolsover 
Castle— Chesterfield— Twisted Spire of the Church— Sheffield— 



CONTENTS. XI 

Manufactories — Steel — Cutlery — Machinery for Rolling Steel — 
Departure forYork — Harvest — Sandal Castle — Wakefield — Arrival 
at York 399 

CHAPTER XLHI. York— Sketch of its History— Description of 
the Minster — Oriel Window — Chapter-House — History of the Ca- 
thedral 408 

CHAPTER, XLIV. York— St. Mary's Abbey— CliiFord's Tower- 
Multangular Tower — City Walls— Retreat for the Insane — Church- 
es — Departure — Country — Thirsk — Cleveland Hills — Mount Grace 
— Yarm — Long-Newton — Rev. Mr. Faber — Sunday at Long-New- 
ton — Stockton-upon-Tees — Durham. .... 414 

CHAPTER XLV. Durham— Cathedral— St. Cuthbert— "View from 
the Cathedral Tower — Remains of Fortifications — Bishops of Dur- 
ham — Departure — Newcastle — Publick Buildings — Antiquities — 
Historical Sketch — Departure for Edinburgh — Morpeth — Rinside 
Moor — Cheviot Hills — Percy's Cross— Flodden Field— The Tweed 
— Coldstream — Kelso — Lammermoor — Edinburgh. 423 

CHAPTER XLVI. Edinburgh— Bishop Sanford— Dr. Buchanan- 
Walk to Leith — Harbour — Docks — Return by Calton Hill — Nel- 
son's Monument — Prospect — Dr. Dickson — Houses of Worship — 
St. Giles' — Episcopal Clergy — St. Pauls' and St. Johns' Chapels — 
Old Town — High Street — The Cowgate — Bridge Street— John 
Knox. . . , 434 

CHAPTER XL VII. Edinburgh—New Town— Prince's Street— Re- 
gent Bridge„...George Street....Lord Melville's Monument....The 
Castle,. ..Portobello.... St. Anthony's Chapel.. ..Salisbury Crag.. ..Ar- 
thur's Seat...Craigmillar Castle.. .Holyrood House.. .Royal Chapel... 
Cemetery of Scottish Kings. ...Legend of the Abbey.. ..Queen Mary's 
Apartments.. ..Furniture.. ..Murder of Rizzio... .Traces of blood on 
the Floor.. ..Picture Gallery. .... 441 

CHAPTER XLVIIL Dalkeith....Dalkeith House....Melville Castle 

....Lasswade....Hawthornden Adventures, &c Roslin Castle..., 

Chapel.. ..Ruins.... Scenery... .Return to Edinburgh. ...Dinner at Dr. 
H. 's....Vacations. .... 451 

CHAPTER XLIX. Departure from Edinburgh...,Passage up the 
Forth....Dalmeny House....Hopetown House....Cambuskenneth Ab- 
bey ....Stirling Castle....Walk to Doune....Doune Castle....Walk to 
Callender.... River Teith.,..Bracklinn....Pass of Leny....Loch Lub- 

naig....Loch Vennachar....Coilantogle's Ford Loch Auchray 

Bridge of Turk....Arrival at Stewart's....Drunken Lieutenant. 460 

CHAPTER L. The Trossachs....Loch Katrine....Ellen's Island.... 
Views on the Lake.. ..Changeful Appearance of Mountain Mists.... 
Battle of Beal' an Duine....Goblin's Cave....Scenery on the Banks of 
the Lake. ...Hut of a Highlander.. ..Loch Arkill....Inversnaid... .Falls 
....Loch Lomond. 473 

CHAPTER LI. Loch Lomond Steam^Boat, Party Amusing 

Scene at Rob Roy's Cave... .Scenery of the Lake....Balloch,...Leven 
Water.. ..Dumbarton. ...Castle.. ..River Clyde.. ..Intemperance.... Arri- 
val at Glasgow.,..The University. ...Hunter's Museum.. ..CathedreJ 
Kirk....Description of the city....Suburbs....Bridges....NeIson's Mon- 
ument. . ........ 480 



XII CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER "LII. Departure from Glasgow.,..Kilmarnock..,.House 
of Burns.. .,Reflections...,Mauchlin. ...Sanquhar.. .. Nithsdale....Dum- 
fries....Solway Sands.... Gretna Green... .Carlisle....Sunday....C,athe- 
dra]....St. Cuthbert's....Early History of Carlisle....City Walls....Ci- 
tadel and Castle....Commercial Travellers....Departure,...Penrith.... 

Kendal Castle....CumberIand Mountains Lancaster....Castle.... 

Preston.... Arrival at Liverpool,... A. Hodgson, Esq Remarks. 490 

CHAPTER LHI. Embarkation....Passengers....Bad Weather....Height 
of waves in a gale. ...Incident.. ..Appearance of the Sea on and off 
soundings.. ..Beautiful effects of light on the waves.. ..Idle hours at 
sea.. ..Land Birds... .Phenomena on the Grand Bank....Whales.... 
Prognostications of bad weather. ... . 502 

CHAPTER LIV. Effects of a Long Gale on the Ocean....Beautiful 
Land Bird....Gale, and loss of the rudder.. ..Construction of a tem- 
porary rudder....Accidents....St. George's Bank....Sunday.... Whales 
....Arrival on the Coast....Little Egg Harbour... .Favourable Weather, 
and arrival in New- York. . 511 



CHAPTER I. 



VOYAGE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 



Voyages to Europe have now become of such frequenoy, 
and are performed with so much celerity in the regular pack- 
ets, that in ordinary cases, a journal of occurrences can ex- 
cite little interest beyond the circle of private friendship. 
Yet, probably few persons have traversed any considerable 
portion of the globe, without wishing afterwards that they had 
preserved some memorial of their adventures, however want- 
ing in novelty or general interest ; were it only to enable 
them to restore impressions which are apt to fade from the 
memory, amid the busy scenes of life. 

We sailed from New-York in the packet ship Cortes, De 
Cost, commander, on the 8th of September, 1823 ; but an- 
chored within the Hook, the wind blowing strong from the 
eastward, and rolling in a heavy sea. Our spacious cabin is 
occupied by three passengers only ; my ship companions be- 
ing a Lieutenant of our Navy, and an intelligent young Eng- 
lishman, returning from his travels through various quarters of 
the globe. After lying two days at anchor, waiting in vain 
for a change of wind, and growing somewhat tired of our re- 
pose, we heard with peculiar pleasure the cheerful cry of the 
men at the windlass ; and a little after noon, commenced 
beating out of the channel. A few stretches brought us into 
the broken, tempestuous sea without the bar, which we soon 
exchanged for the longer and more regular swell of the ocean. 
By sun-set, the coast of New-Jersey exhibited only a fain 
purple streak in the western horizon ; which had entirely dis- 
appeared the next morning, leaving nothing for the eye to rest 
upon but a wide waste of waters, flashing and sparkling under 
the beams of a brilliant sun. It was the first time I had been 
out of sight of land ; and if some emotions of a pensive na- 

2 



14 JOURNAL. 

ture came over my feelings, as I looked in vain for a trace of 
my native land, they were probably no more than thousands 
have experienced before under similar circumstances, and 
thousands will experience again. 

For ten days after we left Sandy Hook, we had to contend 
with an adverse wind, and our progress was of course te- 
diously slow. The weather was however for the most part 
delightful, and our long stretches away to the southward fre- 
quently carried us into the Gulf Stream. This is always in- 
dicated by a more elevated temperature, both of the water 
and of the atmosphere ; and generally, by some irregularity 
in the swell of the ocean. Incidents we have had none to in- 
terrupt the monotonous regularity of our mode of life ; and 
the few vessels we have passed were so distant as to appear 
like specks in the horizon. We observed one day sever- 
al fish of the Nautilus, or Portuguese man-of-war species, 
steering their little barks over the waves, with a steadiness 
and skill which to me were highly amusing. I had no op- 
portunity of examining them ; but when seen from the deck, 
they appeared to be eight or ten inches long, and of a deli- 
cate purple colour, streaked and veined with pale red. A 
high dorsal fin, scallopped at the edge, and very much arch- 
ed, extends the whole length of the fish, giving it at a distance 
the appearance of a delicate shell-fish floating on the surface. 
They are said to lie within a point or two of the wind, which 
they are enabled to do by their moorings, as the sailors call 
their long feelers ; and in this position, the wind acting ob- 
liquely on their little sail, gives them a side-long motion, the 
only one of which they appear to be capable. One of them 
under the lee of the vessel I observed to capsize, as he was 
caught in the eddy of the wind made by the ship's sails ; but 
after lying for a moment on his beam's ends, he righted and 
stood on his voyage. As I stood on the deck, watching the 
motions of these little navigators, probably the first who have 
spread their sails to the wind, I thought of the exclamation ot 
the Psalmist, " O Lord, how manifold are thy works ! In 
wisdom hast thou made them all," and fitted them for the sta» 
tions they are designed to occupy. 



JOURNAL. ^^ 

Judging by my own experience, there must be something 
in a sea life peculiarly calculated to dissipate the mind, and 
unfit it for a sober application to study. The time passes heav- 
ily, because it passes unemployed ; and few are capable of 
mental exertion, without an immediate exciting motive. 
While I am scribbling, one of my fellow passengers is prac- 
tising the gamut with a flageolet, with which he had unluckily 
provided himself before leaving port ; the other is dozing 
over a Review ; and altogether, we exhibit a very edifying 
spectacle of idleness and ennui. Indeed, our living is strictly 
after the flesh. We eat, and drink, and sleep ; and this is 
the sum of our occupations. Conversation " grows drowsy 
like the ticking of a clock," when the labour of thinking is 
felt to be a burthen. No friendly gale has yet visited us, to 
diversify the sameness of the scene, and interrupt the stagna- 
tion of our thoughts. We have delicious moon-light eve- 
nings ; and a more delightful and inspiring scene can scarce- 
ly be imagined, than the calm hour of midnight, on ship- 
board, when the winds and waves are hushed, and the only 
sounds heard are the light rippling of the waters against the 
vessel's side, and the measured tread of the watch slowly pa- 
cing the deck. 

On Friday, the 19th, the wind hauled round to the south, 
after blowing a fortnight from the eastward ; and for the first 
time since leaving port, gave a free course to the ship. Du- 
ring this and the four following days, it held in the same quar- 
ter, and swept us along from eight to eleven knots an hour, 
over a smooth sea. On Saturday, we spoke two vessels, one 
from Bristol and the other from Liverpool, both bound to No- 
va Scotia. Read to-day the first, and part of the second vol- 
ume of Las Casas Journal of events at St. Helena. How 
profound is his admiration of Bonaparte ! He is another Bos- 
well among biographers, only far more idolatrous. His he- 
ro, his model, his all-perfect man distinctly avows, that his 
" internal principles" present no obstacle to suicide ; and 
this, on more than one occasion. He calls it only " going a 
little sooner to his God ! !" What a thick moral darkness 
must have rested on that otherwise lun\inous mind ! What 



16 



JOURNAL. 



could such a being as he expect from an interview with his 
Maker ; hastened too by his own hand, in defiance of the 
published canon against self-murder ! His pride, and a faint 
hope of a turn in publick affairs, kept him from cutting his 
own throat ! He would not gratify the English ministry so 
far as to take himself out of the way. His internal principles 
Were, that death is an eternal sleep ; in maintaining which, he 
seems to have forgotten his position concerning suicide, — 
that it was only going a little sooner to his God. And could 
he seriously believe, that the burning spirit which for fifteen 
years had kept Europe on fire, and consumed millions of its 
population — which had worked out human misery on a scale 
of such magnitude, that mankind absolutely forgot his atroci- 
ties in the grandeur of his conceptions — that this spirit would 
be allowed at death to sink into an everlasting sleep ? The 
truth is, his thoughts on these subjects were wild, crude, and 
contradictory in the extreme — a chaos of tumultuary dreams, 
amidst which his agitated spirit found no certain resting-place. 
Of the existence of a book containing the Revelations of God, 
he seems scarcely to have been aware ; and we therefore 
cease to feel surprise at the childishness and incoherency of 
his speculations. 

Sunday, Sept. 21st. On reading the XlVth chapter of 
Isaiah, I was struck with the resemblance between the career 
and fate of the king of Babylon, and those of the modern he- 
ro. How terribly grand are the conceptions of the prophet ! 
No sooner has the conqueror fallen, than praise and acclama- 
tion burst forth from the nations ; " the whole earth is at rest, 
and is quiet ; they break forth into singing." Even the fir- 
trees and cedars of Lebanon rejoice over the fall of the de- 
stroyer. But the poetry rises in grandeur, when the dead he- 
ro descends to the shades below. The spirits of the mighty, 
aware of the crimes of his military career, had impatiently 
awaited his descent into their dreary domain. Hell from be- 
neath is stirred up at his coming. The shades of kings and 
chief ones of the earth start up from their couches, and hail 
his approach with bitter taunts, and in a strain of irony which 
makes one's blood thrill, as they bend their keen vision on the 



JOURNAL. 



17 



Overthrown man of blood. They affect surprise, that he, the 
mighty conqueror, the weakener of nations, had at length be- 
come like one of them ; and as they move towards him in a 
procession of slow and mocking solemnity, as if to do homage 
to his greatness, how is the effect heightened by the narrow 
and considering look with which they regard him ! How 
keenly reproachful is the half ironical, half serious exclama- 
tion of surprise, at seeing him there — " Is this the man that 
made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms ; that 
made the world as a wilderness ! All the kings of the nations, 
(the righteous ones, doubtless) even all of them, lie in glory, 
every one in his own house, (his grave ;) but thou art cast out 
of thy grave like an abominable branch — thou shalt not be 
joined with them in burial, because thou hast destroyed thy land^ 
and slain thy people." What a terrible dramatist was this 
prophet ! What a lesson for conquerors ! The worshippers 
of Shakespeare's genius may be safely challenged to produce 
a parallel, or any thing approaching it, in the characteristics 
of sublimity and terror. The scene is laid " in the nether 
parts of the earth ;" the actors are the shades of kings and 
heroes ; and the action represented is the descent of a spirit, 
stained with the crimes of ambition and conquest. 

It is mid-day ; and our friends in America are assembled 
for morning worship in the courts of the Lord. In England, 
the bells are chiming for evening prayers ; but here, our ears 
are saluted only by the roar of waters. But why may we not 
join the Psalmist, in summoning the inanimate works of crea- 
tion to praise God in the firmament of his power. " Let the 
sea make a noise, and all that therein is. — Let the floods clap 
their hands, and rejoice before the Lord ; for he cometh to 
judge the earth." 

Nothing can be more delightful than our progress to-day. 
The heavens are remarkably serene ; the air bland and tem- 
perate ; and a strong, steady breeze from the south-west ur- 
ges us on at the rate of nine or ten knots an hour, with very 
little rolling motion. About 2 o'clock, however, having 
reached the eastern borders of the Grand Bank, we were 
suddenly enveloped in a fog so thick, that we could scarcely 
2* "^ 



18 



JOURNAL 



see the ship's length ; and our deck and rigging were drench- 
ed with mist. The bell is rung at short intervals, to give no- 
tice of our approach to any vessel that may happen to be in 
our way. 

The reading of Las Casas yesterday, introduced a discus- 
sion relative to the hero of the tale, in which opposite sides 
were taken by the company. How is it possible that republi- 
cans, champions of political freedom and of the sovereignty 
of the people, can warmly vindicate the military career of 
that great enslaver, whose only grasp was at power, and who 
extinguished every kind of freedom but what depended on 
his own will ! For the sycophants of an absolute monarchy 
to laud him, is natural enough ; but for republicans to " throw 
up their caps , and utter such a deal of stinking breath," in 
praise of their idol, is a striking example of the strange incon- 
sistency into which men are carried by their political prejudi- 
ces, and their admiration of dazzling qualities, independently 
of their moral nature. 

Monday. — The breeze continues to favour us, and we are 
gaining on our distance at the rate of two hundred miles a 
day, through a mist which almost turns day into night. We 
have made about 26^ of Longitude, equal to a little more than 
a third of our voyage ; but v/ith such prosperous winds as 
those with which we have been favoured latterly, we hope 
soon to greet the cliffs of Albion. I strive in vain to recall 
the feelings of enthusiasm, with which in my boyhood I re- 
garded that country. Ten years ago, what ecstasy would 
have been in the thought of seeing Westminster Abbey, and 
ivy-hung ruins of castles, and mighty London, and Scotch 
glens — objects associated with our earliest reading and most 
lasting impressions ; but some how or other, " these visions 
flit less palpably before me," now that they are apparently so 
near being reahzed. But so it is. Pleasure, anticipated at 
a distance, is often entertained with a keener reUsh, than 
when the fruition of it is at hand. 

Good resolutions. — A few days ago, my companions dis- 
cussed a plan for a more profitable employment of time, 
which resulted in a resolution to rise at 6, and devote two 



JOURNAL. 19 

hours to French and ItaUan. Their operations began and 
were terminated on the following day ; and now, the bell is 
resorted to, to summon them to breakfast. 

While sitting to-day at dinner, the mate called out at the 
companion-way — An ice-berg on our lee ! The table was 
cleared in an instant, and all ran upon deck for a sight of this 
unexpected phenomenon. The fog held up a little, and dis- 
closed to our view a field of ice, about four or five miles to the 
northward. We could form no opinion of its extent, as it 
was concealed in both directions by the density of the fog. 
The same cause prevented us from deriving any assistance 
from the telescope ; but as the fog was lifted up at intervals, 
we could see the surf breaking against the base of the pile. 
The mass towered to the height of two or three hundred feet, 
and appeared of a dirty white colour. The partial obscurity 
in which it was shrouded, added to its terrific grandeur. The 
irregular front, which was visible through the mist, must have 
extended along a line of a quarter of a mile, or more. We 
thought of the fate of the Liverpool packet, which a few years 
ago struck against an ice-berg, and went down in a few min- 
utes, bvuying most of its passengers and crew in the deep ; 
and felt thankful for our pi'eservation. Had the floating pile 
lay in our way the night before, when we were running at 
the rate often knots an hour, in the midst of a dense fog, our 
destruction must have been inevitable. Ice-bergs are ex- 
tremely uncommon in this latitude at this late season of the 
year, as they have generally crumbled away long before 
the summer has expired. The one we saw occurred in Lat. 
45° 50' and Lon. 43° 20' — a little to the south-east of the 
Outer or False Bank. 

Tuesday, Sept. 23d. — Notwithstanding some slight appre- 
hensions on board, that the island we had seen might be one 
of a cluster — and there were not wanting indications that 
there were more in this region — we passed the night without 
alarm, still running eight or nine knots an hour. Early this 
morning we emerged from the dark cloud of fog which had 
enveloped us for the last two or three days, and once more 
hailed the cheerful beams of the sun. The air has had a ve- 



20 JOURNAL. 

ry perceptible icy feeling ; and our captain attributes the un- 
common smoothness of the sea, though the wind has been con- 
stantly fresh, and the extreme density of the fog, to masses 
of ice to the windward. It was with singular emotions that I 
looked yesterday at our unwelcome visiter from the cold re- 
gions of the north ; and I shall long retain the recollection of 
that stupendous pile — 

" The gathered winter of a thousand years"- 
slowly and majestically drifting down to more temperate 
climes. It did not escape our observation, that when the fog 
dispersed, the temperature of the atmosphere rose considera- 
bly, and the regular swell of the ocean returned. These cir- 
cumstances, taken together, afforded a strong presumptive 
evidence that we had passed to the leeward of a chain of 
ice-bergs, which the state of the atmosphere did not allow us ■ 
to observe. We are now rolling, as usual, 

"In cradle of the rude, imperious surge," 
with a fresh breeze from the south, and making all the head- 
way we could wish. Passed a brig from Baltimore bound to 
Liverpool, and soon dropped her astern. 

In a discussion with one of my companions on duelling, he 
acknowledged that it was infamous ; that the man who killed 
his antagonist in single combat, and on a private account, was 
a murderer in the eyes of God ; and that he who fell in a du- 
el, fell in the act of committing a sin, which must inevitably 
draw after it everlasting punishment. Still, he contended 
that it was necessary for a young officer to fight when called 
upon. I enquired, what kind of necessity he meant. He re- 
plied, that the contempt and insult he would have to endure 
from his brother officers would oblige him to quit the service, 
and his society would be shunned by the other sex. And 
these were the evils which, allowing them in their fullest ex- 
tent, were to be dreaded more than the eternal wrath of God 
poured out on the murderer's head ! I represented, that, let 
a young officer maintain a character decidedly religious, or 
even eminently moral ; and he might decline a duel with hon- 
our, even in the estimation of duellists ; and that, with regard 
lo the opinion of the ladies, I should as soon think of com- 



JOURNAL. 21 

mending myself to the good graces of a tigress, as of one of 
the sex, to whom the reputation of a duellist would be a recom- 
mendation. My companion assented to the justice of these 
representations, but did not abandon his plea of necessity. 
To what inconsistencies are the advocates of this wretched 
custom driven ! They tremble at the reproaches of a few 
unprincipled men and women ; but dread not the damnation 
of hell ! 

The next day, we were visited with something like a gale, 
which obliged us to reduce our canvass, leaving hardly enough 
to keep the vessel steady. The sea looks broken and angry, 
and the foam is blown like feathers along the surface. One 
of the last accomplishments attained by a landsman, is the art 
of sleeping well in rough weather. Every change in the 
wmd, by giving the vessel a new motion, causes him a night 
of wakefulness, until he has become accustomed to all the va- 
rieties of rolling, swinging, and pitching, of which a ship is 
susceptible. Then, there is, too, the noise of the waves cha- 
fing the side of the vessel within a few inches of his ears, like 
the rubbing of pebbles together ; and ever and anon a sea 
thumping against it, like the stroke of an enormous beetle, and 
a clatter of blocks and tramping of feet overhead in getting the 
ship about — all conspiring to " frighten nature's soft nurse" 
from his birth. We are now sailing, or rather rolling, eleven 
knots an hour, which compensates for many inconveniences. 
We have accomplished 227 miles the last twenty-four hours. 
The next day, our Latitude was 48° 29', and Longitude 32°. 
A squadron of small porpoises, of a light brown colour, and 
slender form, came along side, and accompanied us for sever- 
al miles, although the ship was running at the rate of nine 
knots an hour. They appeared not to be more than from three 
to five feet long, and with very sharp heads and pointed noses. 
They seemed delighted with an opportunity to display their 
agility before spectators, in darting from wave to wave, and 
playing their gambols under the bows and sides of the vessel. 
At one moment, half a dozen of them would place themselves 
in the foam under the ship's bows, and then shoot away v/ith 
the velocity of an arrow, and join us in another quarter. It 



22 



JOURNAL. 



was not till after the closest inspection, that I could discover 
the sUght, tremulous motion of their tails, by which they pro- 
pelled themselves at so rapid a rate : they appeared to shoot 
forward in a straight line without any effort. The fins seem 
to be very little used in swimming, except to balance the fish, 
and enable him to direct his course upwards or downwards in 
the water. No sea-serpent has yet crossed our track ; we 
have not even seen a whale or a dolphin ; and we had too fine 
a breeze on the banks to stop and angle for cod-fish. How 
difficult to make out a journal amidst such a dearth of inci- 
dents ! 

The economy of the ship is regulated as follows, when not 
deranged by our habits of idleness. We breakfast at eight — ■ 
those of us who happen to be out of our births ; dine at three ; 
and take our tea at half past seven. It cannot be denied but 
that we " fare sumptuously every day." It is true that a sud- 
den lurch sometimes empties a plate of soup, or capsizes a 
dish of tea into our laps ; but our philosophy is not to be dis- 
turbed by such trifles. After breakfast, we go upon deck to 
inspect the state of the weather, practise gymnastics in the 
rigging, or play with Rambler, who regularly presents him- 
self at the companion-way for a little fun. Then follow two 
or three hours of reading ; and conversation, sleep, and idle- 
ness fill up the day. Yet our captain pays us the compli- 
ment of saying that we are the most industrious passengers 
he has ever sailed with. 

Sunday, 28th. — The western horizon this evening pre- 
sented a scene of perfect enchantment. Some bright clouds 
had settled in that quarter • and being tinged with pale green, 
yellow, and various other dyes, looked like a bright land- 
scape in a fairy land. But these meteorological appearan- 
ces, like the creations of a dream, will scarcely bear descrip- 
tion. 

Monday. — Gray's letters to his friends, which I have been 
reading to-day, I consider to be among the most sprightly and 
graceful which our language affords. His consolatory epis- 
ties are also full of feeling and tenderness ; but how did it 
happen that he should miss the only genuine topic of consola- 
tion under bereavement, viz. resignation to the ways of prov« 



JOURNAL. 23 

idence through Him, v/ho came to " give rest to the weary 
and heavy laden ?" What is revelation worth, if we will not 
be instructed by it, and make it the sole foundation of our 
hopes ? Seneca would prove as good a comforter in sorrow, 
as Gray the poet. His letters written during his travels, 
one would scarcely think were the productions of the same 
pen. They are too exclusively descriptive to please. 

The next day, our captain got an observation, by which the 
discovery was made that we were twenty miles north of the 
latitude of Cape Clear, instead of thirty miles south of it, as 
the captain had supposed. This was the more remarkable, 
as an observation had been taken but two days before. The 
discovery of the errour was a very timely one, as we were 
standing in directly for the shore ; and probably saved us 
from some unpleasant consequences. We sounded in the 
evening, and found bottom at one hundred fathoms. 

Wednesday, Oct. 1st. — Our ears were greeted this morn- 
ing with the delightful sound of Land, O ! from the man at 
the mast-head. The cry brought all hands upon deck ; but 
it required the practised eye of seamen to discern at first the 
faint outline of mountains, whose forms were almost entirely 
hidden by the haze. Thus have we befen but twenty days out 
of sight of land, during the first half of which time, the ship 
was never able to have a free course for six hours together. 
Before evening, we were standing in for St. George's Chan- 
nel, with stiff", squally weather from the north, which brought 
us under close-reefed canvass. In the course of the day, 
we passed the " Old Head of Eansale" — the scene of the ca- 
tastrophe of the Albion ; and the dreadful bulwark of cliffs 
which line the shore. What wonder that the image of tha' 
melancholy wreck rose before us ! I thought, too, of a name 
dear to science and to worth, which was involved in the com 
mon calamity. 

-Thee the shores, and sounding seas 



Wash far away, where'ere thy bones are hurled. 
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 
Where thou, perhaps, under the whehning tide 
Visit 'st the bottom of the monstrous world." 

The coast presents here a frightful range of precipices for 



- 24 JOURNAL. 

many miles in extent ; and it is matter of surprise, how any 
of the ill-fated passengers in the Albion should have escaped 
with life, while a mountainous sea was breaking against the 
cliffs. 

We continued running along, about twelve miles distant 
from the shore, the hedges, and cottages of the peasantry, 
and green fields sloping down to the water's edge, being dis- 
tinctly visible to the naked eye. This part of the coast is 
guarded by clusters of little rocky islands, among which the 
Saltees, the Scylla of mariners, are most conspicuous. Pas- 
sing the beautiful Tuscar light in the night, we commenced 
beating up the channel, having the Welch and Irish coasts al- 
ternately in view. The most dangerous navigation between 
New-York and Liverpool, is doubtless that through the Irish 
sea. On the one hand, a reef of sunken rocks lines for a 
great distance the semi-circular sweep of Cardigan bay ; and 
on the other, the Arkloe sands present dangers equally for- 
midable. We continued beating up the channel against 
strong head winds, and the worst sea we had experienced, 
until Friday morning, when we had weathered Holy Head, 
and were standing in for Liverpool. The weather was de- 
lightful ; and the returning light revealed to us the high moun^ 
tains of Penmanmaur, rising in great majesty from behind 
the island of Anglesea. On our left, the Isle of Man was 
barely perceptible at a distance. Anglesea, the Mona of the 
ancients, and the scene of Druidical superstitions, presents a 
barren and uneven surface ; but to landsmen, who for weeks 
have seen nothing but the rolling billows of the Atlantic, the 
most sterile prospect is not without its charms. A few stunted 
hedges trace their green lines over the bosoms of the hills j 
and here and there, a white spire or beacon glitters in the 
light. A long line of blue smoke, from a copper furnace, has 
a pleasing effect, relieved as it is by the dark mass of moun- 
tains in the background ; but on the whole, there is little in 
the scenery of the northern coast of Wales worthy of re-, 
mark. The shore itself is a bluff, in many places precipit- 
ous, and of a reddish colour. 

We came to anchor about eight or nine miles from the 



jroURNAL. 



25 



town, on the outside of the bar, the state of the tide not al- 
lowing us to pass it ; and embarked in a boat shaped much 
like a punch-bowl. About halfway up, we were arrested by 
another bar, on which there was not more than four feet 
depth of water. I was not before aware, that Liverpool was 
so unapproachable at low water as we found it to be. The 
channel is narrow ; the tide runs with great strength ; and 
an extensive sand bank, bare at low water, stretches across 
the very entrance into the river ; on which were lying a num- 
ber of stranded vessels, fully attesting the dangers of the nav- 
igation. On quitting our tuh, which, in truth, is no other 
than a machine for recovering lost anchors, at the outer bar, 
we took to a row boat, and were landed at the docks a little 
before sun-set, in a deluge of rain, on the 3d of October, 23 
days after weighing anchor at Sandy Hook. 

As it was just at the close of the " Musical Festival," it 
was impossible to get lodgings at any of the best hotels, 
which were all crowded with nobility and gentry from the 
neighbourhood ; and we were obliged to content ourselves 
with second rate accommodations. 

I pass over the vexations and delays of the Custom-house, 
and the rapacity of drunken underlings, which every passen- 
ger has experienced, and every journalist has described. 
As my trunk contained nothing, except a few books, on which 
duties could possibly be exacted, I did not have recourse to 
the usual mode of getting the passage of my baggage hasten- 
ed ; and was punished for my neglect by every possible de- 
lay. At length, when it was manifest that no bribe was to be 
expected, they proceeded to weigh, wiih the most scrupulous 
exactness, the few books I had put into my trunk to read on 
the passage ; for every pound weight of which I paid upwards 
of a shilling sterlmg, besides the regular fees of the clerks. 
My companion had a large collection of Chinese curiosities, 
which he preferred leaving in the hands of the custom-house 
officers, to paying the enormous duties which were exacted 
upon them. 

Halving despatched this troublesome business, we called to 
pay our respects to the venerable Consul of the United States, 



36 JOURNAL, 

Mr. Maury, well known to all the Americans in Liverpool for 
the politeness of his attentions, and highly esteemed by all 
for the benevolence of his character. He was appointed to 
this station by Gen. Washington, and has not been in Ameri- 
ca since. 



CHAPTER II. 



LIVERPOOL. ST. GEORGE S CHAPEL ASYLUM FOR THE BLIND 

DOCKS, &C. 

On Sunday morning, (Oct. 5th) I went, with Mr. M , 

my fellow-traveller, to St. George's Chapel, Everton, a vil- 
lage in the suburbs of Liverpool. A walk of about two, or 
two and a half miles, brought us to the summit of elevated 
ground, to the northward of the city, on which Everton is sit- 
uated. Here we had a commanding view of the busy mart of 
commerce stretching along the banks of the Mersey, now 
hushed in the stillness of a Christian Sabbath ; and of the op- 
posite shore and mountains of Wales. In a clear day, the 
view must be delightful ; but now, it was partially obscured 
by a drizzling atmosphere, and the dun smoke of mineral coal 
disgorged from ten thousand chimneys beneath us. Two or 
three streets winding along the brow of the hill, and rising 
by a steep ascent above each other, with elegant mansions 
and tasteful pleasure grounds, render Everton a desirable 
place of residence to the merchant, retired from the cares of 
business. The bell was ringing for service when we arri- 
ved ; and through the politeness of one of the congregation, 
we were soon accommodated with a seat. 

St. George's Chapel is remarkable for being the first ever 
erected, in which the ornamental parts were made of cast 
iron. The door and window frames, and mullions, the col- 
umns, ribs, groins, &c. are all of that material, and painted of 
a light oaken color. It was built in 1814 ; and from its ele- 
vated situation, is a land-mark for sailors entering the port of 



LIVERPOOL. ^'^ 

Liverpool. The style employed is the modern Gothic, light, 
airy, and well proportioned, with a square tower in front. 
The walls are of hewn stone, similar in appearance to that 
found in the quarries at Chatham, in Connecticut. The 
ground glass in the windows has a most pleasing effect, in 
softening and obscuring the light, which is apt to be so annoy- 
ing in churches built in the modern taste. 

Mr. Buddicomb, the preacher at St. George's, is known in 
America by a volume or two of published sermons, distin- 
guished by their eloquence, piety, and good sense. He was 
in his pulpit ; and we heard him to advantage, as kis discourse 
was an occasional one, in behalf of his Sunday School. He 
is apparently about forty, of low stature, with features expres- 
sive of benevolence, and strength of character. Although 
he used but little action, his enunciation was earnest and em- 
phatic, and commanded a deep attention from an audience- 
which, notwithstanding the bad weather, was very numerous. 
Perhaps the chXirCh-guhig people in England are less appre- 
hensive of dangerous consequences from the weather, than 
those in America. We dropped our shilling into the plate, 
and returned to our lodgings through a drizzling rain, which, 
the inhabitants say, has fallen for six weeks, without a day's 
intermission. 

In the afternoon, I went alone to St. Nicholas' church, 
where all the impressions I had received in the morning were 
reversed. A dropsical, gouty old man, whose infirmities 
seemed to be the fruit of good living, gallopped through the 
service with a most indecent haste, and in a hoarse and scarce- 
ly audible voice. He was followed by a decent young man, 
who preached a decent sermon on the completeness of the 
Christian system, which could offend nobody. Indeed, there 
were few present to be either scandalized or benefited by his 
lucubrations. The chanCel window is decorated by a beauti- 
ful painting, in stained glass, of our Lord's ascension. As this 
was the first specimen of the kind I had ever seen, my atten- 
tion was forcibly arrested by the softness and richness of the 
colouring, which surpasses in effect the finest productions on 
canvass. A most melancholy occurrence took place at this 



^ JOURNAL. 

church, a few years ago. The stone spire, which was very 
lofty, gave way and fell upon the building during divine ser- 
vice, scattering terror and death among the congregation. 
Twenty-two persons were crushed to death on the spot by 
this accident. 

My evening was spent at the church of the Asylum for the 
Blind — a noble institution, which reflects honour on the hu- 
manity of this commercial city. We had a sensible, but not 
very appropriate discourse, from the Rector. He had too 
much to say about infidels, and reason enhghtened by revela- 
tion ; and was too speculative for an audience composed of 
the Blind, or indeed for any congregation whatever. 

We went, a few days after, to attend the anniversary of 
the institution, having been provided with tickets through the 
attention of our venerable consul. The inmates of the Asy- 
lum occupied the gallery, and the church was filled below 
with the gentry and wealthy inhabitants of Liverpool. The 
service is performed as it is in the cathedrals ; that is, the 
whole of it is read in musical tones, the female voices just an 
octave higher than those of the men. The anthems and " 
pieces of music, from Handel, and other eminent composers, 
were most delightfully performed by the sightless choir ; ac- 
companied by the organ, which also was played by a blind 
performer. When it is considered that the whole service, 
including the psalms for the day, was recited from memory, 
it affords a striking instance how much that faculty may be 
improved by use. There was no hesitancy, no mistake dis- 
coverable in the whole service. Some of the voices were 
very fine : the best was that of a lady of great personal 
beauty, save that 

" A drop serene 

Had quench'd her orbs, or dim suffusion veil'd 

them with *' clouds, and ever-during dark." The effect of 
the performance was highly impressive. It was impossible, 
without emotion, to witness fifty or sixty of these unfortunate 
beings, among whom there was not a ray of vision, lifting 
up their voices in sweetest harmony, in a chorus of praise to 
their Creator, 



Liverpool. 29 

The preacher for the day was the Bishop of Sodor and 
Man, a prelate of youthful appearance, and a countenance 
indicating gentleness and benevolence rather than strength 
of mind. " Who did sin, this man or his parents, that he 
was born blind!" furnished an appropriate subject for a dis- 
course, which, although correct, was wanting in force. As 
an appeal had been made to our charity, I was surprised to 
see the congregation dismissed cind retiring from the church, 
without an actual demand being made upon our purses. Yet 
I thought they moved away very slowly. The thing was ex- 
plained, however, on reaching the door. Breastworks had 
been placed in the vestibule, during the service, in such a 
manner as to admit of but one person passing at a time. 
Behind these stood certain high-born ladies, who with smiling 
faces and fair hands, offered the plate to receive the charity 
of each visiter. As the honourable and beautiful are select- 
ed for this service on any important occasion ; and are at- 
tended by a group of their companions, under whose eye it 
is necessary to pass, the policy of the arrangement must be 
confessed, whatever may be thought of its propriety. Few, 
I observed, had the assurance to escape, without paying 
tribute to the silver plate. 

The following two days were spent in surveying Liverpool 
and its environs, and examining whatever was most worthy 
of notice. The docks for the safety and repair of shipping 
are not among the least curiosities of the place. Some idea 
of the magnificence of the scale on which they are construct- 
ed may be formed from the dimensions here given. Besides 
the Old Dock, appropriated principally to the reception of 
East and West India ships ; there is the King's Dock, 390 
yards in length by 90 in width, with its long range of tobacco 
ware-houses ; St. George's Dock, 250 yards by 100, reckon- 
ed the most commodious of any ; Queen's Dock, the largest 
and best finished of these stupendous works ; Prince's Dock 
lately completed ; besides eight or nine graving and dry 
docks for the repair of vessels. The wet docks are opened 
an hour or two before high tide, and closed soon after the ebb 
has commenced. Within these basins, ships lie in the most 
3* 



30 JOURNAL. 

perfect security, and meet with every facility, on the spacious 
quays, for discharging and taking in their loading. All these 
works are constructed of free-stone, and in a most admirable 
style of masonry. 

The Exchange, including the town-hall, is a noble, spa- 
cious building, erected at an expense of £80,000 sterling. 
It occupies three sides of a quadrangle, the area of which 
is near 200 feet square. None of the religious edifices are 
remarkable, though they are generally neat and creditable to 
the taste of the city. A 'new Gothic church is now partly 
erected, which promises to be the most ornamental structure 
in the place. We paid a hasty visit to the Botanical Garden, 
situated a little out of the town. It is spacious, and beauti- 
fully laid out, and rendered perfectly rural by a broad belt 
of thick shrubbery and trees, planted around the exteriour 
boundary. 

Liverpool is quite a modern city, as it was little known in 
the commercial world till the middle of the last century. 
Since that time, its population has increased five fold, and 
now amounts to nearly 100,000. To the Slave trade is 
owing its rapid rise from obscurity, the merchants of the 
place having formerly been engaged in that traffic to a great 
extent. Since its abolition, manufactures and foreign com- 
merce have conspired to perpetuate the prosperity begun in 
so inauspicious a manner ; and its growth in latter years has 
more resembled that of one of our new, American cities, 
than the tardy progress of the cities of the old world. It ex- 
hibits in general the appearance of opulence and refinement. 
The streets are well paved, and sufficiently spacious, with 
the exception of a few in the old and commercial parts of 
the town. The ground rises by a gentle slope from the river 
until it meets the base of the ridge, on which stands the de- 
lightful village of Everton, where a steep ascent commences, 
every step of which discloses new prospects over the city, 
the opposite shore of Wales, and the lofty broken country in 
the back-ground. 

Having devoted what time we could spare to a survey of 
notable things, we packed up our trunks, and prepared to 



RIDE TO BIRMINGHAM. 31 

take leave of this city of docks, fat men and fat women, coal- 
smoke, dirty streets, cast iron, mammon and mud. 



CHAPTER III. 



RIDE TO BIRMINGHAM STAFFORD WOLVERHAMPTON BIRMINGHAM- 
MUSICAL FESTIVAL BRAHAM MRS. SALMON MISS STEPHENS MA- 
DAME CATALANI BIDE TO LONDON DR. PARR WARWICK CASTLE 

— OXFORD LONDON. 

On a cold frosty morning, I found myself for the first time 
in my life, on the top of an English coach, whirling out of 
Liverpool, while night and day were yet disputing for the do- 
minion. At first, I was quite unable to reconcile my station — ■ 
on the top of the vehicle, eight feet from the ground, with 
a load of baggage piled higher than my head, and trun- 
dled along at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, — with my 
preconceived ideas of personal safety. A novice in these 
matters might be forgiven for holding tight a little at first, and 
meditating a jump in case of an upset ; for which, in- 
deed, these machines seem admirably adapted. 

Our road towards Birmingham lay through Warrington, 
Knutsford, Stafford, Bankwood, and Wolverhampton. Chesh- 
ire, so famous for its dairies, is a very level county, and 
almost wholly appropriated to pasturage. Few of the fields 
appear to have been disturbed for many years by the plough. 
As we entered Staffordshire, the country became more hilly, 
and apparently less fertile. A little after noon, we reached 
the ancient city of Stafford, very compactly built, but not very 
extensive. The extreme narrowness of the streets, and the 
jutting houses of timber and plaster, proclaim at once the 
antiquity of the place. While our coach-companions were 
snatching their hasty meal, we sallied forth to look at the 
churches, whose venerable appearance at a distance had at- 
tracted our notice. To find them was no easy matter, amidst 
such a labyrinth of crooked lanes. At length, we made our 



32 JOURNAL. 

way to one, rather by accident than design; but another, 
whose " antique towers" had arrested our attention, defied 
all our attempts to approach it, or even to find where it stood, 
so completely was it hidden by the irregular piles of old 
buildings in its neighbourhood. A blast from the bugle put 
an end to our researches ; and we hastened back just in time 
to resume our seats. 

As we emerged from the dark alleys of the city, the towers 
of Stafford Castle appeared to our right on an eminence, and 
partly embosomed among the trees. This old fortification, if 
I rightly remember, was often battered during the wars of the 
parliament. The main part of the castle is hidden by the 
trees; but two heavy circular towers, with projecting battle- 
ments, attract the eye of the traveller. 

In the course of our ride this afternoon, we passed Spring 
Vale Asylum, a retreat for lunatics, situated in one of the 
most delightful places imaginable. A narrow glen, with 
steep, irregular banks, penetrates the hill which skirts along 
the road ; and about a quarter of a mile up this romantic 
vale, the building is situated. A brawling stream tumbles 
down the glen by a variety of cascades ; and its waters are at 
length collected into an artificial bason, in the midst of which 
is a large jet d'eau. The banks are tastefully laid out in 
irregular winding walks ; along which, a number of patients 
were sauntering, and amusing themselves with looking at the 
passengers below. No situation could have been more hap- 
pily chosen for soothing the irritation of the maniac, or 
charming away the grief of melancholy, than that of Spring 
Vale Asylum. 

Wolverhampton is a place of some note ; old, dirty, with 
narrow streets, and black with coal-dust. From this to Bir- 
mingham, fourteen or fifteen miles, the road winds along 
among piles of coal and iron ore, rubbish thrown out from 
the mines, furnaces, and steam-engines, the number of which 
is incredible. It was now twilight : we rode under a thick 
canopy of smoke ; and the fires blazing from countless fur- 
naces for smelting, the creaking of engines, and the hun- 
dreds of sooty figures toiling in the yellow light of the burn- 



MUSICAL FESTIVAL. 33 

ing piles, gave a strange and unearthly effect to the whole 
scene. One might easily fancy that he had passed the Styx, 
and got into the regions of Pandemonium. We did not fair- 
ly escape from the hubbub till we were almost ready to enter 
Birmingham : and on looking back, the whole horizon was in 
a glow with the light, reflected from the countless fires of 
" the Bilston Works." The Birmingham canal passes 
through them, and suppUes the city with coal. Canals, in- 
deed, are almost as numerous as roads ; Ave have been pass- 
ing over, or diving under them, the whole day. 

England is now lighted with gas. Every village has its 
line of leaden pipes twisted about under ground, creeping up 
the corners of houses, and spirting out their jets of flame for 
the convenience of the public. Churches, halls, dining- 
rooms, streets, shops — all are now made luminous by carbu- 
retted hydrogen gas. We entered Birmingham in the even- 
ing, between a double row of gas-lights, just as the rain was 
beginning to descend copiously ; and not choosing to give 
half a guinea for a night's loding at " the Hen and Chickens," 
after a tiresome search which carried us over half the city, we 
found accommodations, such as they were, at a rate somewhat 
lower. The reason of this extortion was, that the Musical 
Festival was now holding at Birmingham, which had bro-ught 
together a large concourse of strangers. It was with great 
satisfaction that I learned, that the piece to be performed the 
next day was the Messiah. 

Going the next day to St. Philip's Church, we found the 
avenues guarded by horse dragoons, to preserve order among 
the multitude, who were assembled by thousands ; and pay- 
ing our half guinea at the door, we were fortunate enough to 
secure an eligible place for hearing. The choir consisted of 
about two hundred performers, vocal and instrumental, the 
most eminent in the country. Braham commenced with the 
solo, " Comfort ye my people ;" and in about three hours 
and a half, I heard for the first time the whole of this divine 
composition. 

Braham's voice is powerful, which I suspect has ever been 
its greatest recommendation. Some of its tones are still 



S4 JOURNAL. 

sweet ; but others are rough and unmusical. He smgs with 
an appearance of much effort, and his voice, I should appre- 
hend, was losing its flexibility and grace. — Knyvett's falsetto 
voice, not loud, but clear and mellifluous, and Bellamy's bass 
solos, are justly admired. That of " The trumpet shall 
sound," echoed by the deep, startling tones of the trombone, 
had a grand, and even awful effect. 

Among the female performers, setting aside Madame Cat- 
alani, of whom more anon, Mrs. Salmon is the greatest fa- 
vourite. Her voice is one of great compass and sweetness, 
which she manages with admirable skill. That of Miss Ste- 
phens is soft, clear, and melodious, but not powerful. Her 
style of singing is rather quiet than brilliant. There is also 
an air of too much languor and non chalance in her manner, 
to fix the attention powerfully. 

Who has not heard of Madame Catalani ? Her reputation 
fox being the best of all the tuneful choir in the world, may 
warrant a more particular notice of her. If her singing de- 
lighted me, I was disgusted with her affectation. At a pause 
in the performance, she was led forward, and took her seat ; 
and immediately commenced bowing and smiling to the gen- 
teel company which sat in the opposite gallery. Then she 
threw herself into a variety of postures, adjusting her dress, 
smiling, languishing, clasping her hands, throwing up her 
eyes, and attitudenizing in the most affected manner, till the 
organ began the prelude to the solo, — " I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth ;" when she arose and commenced that strain, 
so full of pathos and trembling hope. But its effect was 
nearly lost on me ; I could not drive her fantastic airs out of 
my head sufficiently to enter into the spirit of the piece. The 
vast power, the richness, the compass and flexibility of her 
voice, however, were evident. She sang with sufficient sim- 
plicity, until she came to the penultimate syllable, to which 
she appended such a string of graces and embellishments, as 
to cause every one involuntarily to suspend breathing till she 
had got through. In her person she is tall and full formed ; 
with nothing Ita.liaa in her features, except her eyes, which 



RIDE TO LONDON. 35 

are full, soft, and dark : her dress was rather gaudy, and dec- 
orated with a profusion of jewels. 

The Musical Festivals, which take place every year in 
England, are constituted on the following plan : A society ex- , 
ists, under the direction of a Board of Managers, consisting of 
Lords temporal and spiritual, for the collection of charities 
by musical exhibitions. The most eminent performers in 
England are engaged ; and during the autumnal months, 
they visit the large provincial towns, in each of which, they 
perform three or four days in succession. The exhibition 
necessarily brings together great numbers of the nobility and 
gentry of the neighbourhood, and large sums are collected 
in this way. At York, the sale of Tickets during the Festi- 
val amounted to £15,000 sterling ; and the audience in the 
Cathedral is said to have exceeded 4000. The proceeds of 
the present exhibition are given to the Birmingham Infirmary. 
We had no opportunity to look at the manufactories, for 
which Birmingham is so much celebrated ; nor did they, in 
truth, appear to be so numerous as has been often represent- 
ed. We expected to see a city composed of smithies ; but 
after exploring a great many streets, we were still obliged to 
enquire, — where are the shops of the button-makers ? Bir- 
mingham presents to the eye of the traveller only a neat, 
well built city, savouring much less of coal-dust and smoke, 
than Liverpool. We dined with a friend after the Musical 
exhibition was over ; and early the next morning mounted 
the coach for London. 

Leaving Birmingham as the day was beginning to dawn, 
we dashed away towards the south, at the usual break-neck 
velocity. Among the passengers was a jolly Scotchman, 
returning with his " gude wife" from a visit to his native 
mountains. He was one of those who, according to Dr. 
Johnson, thought the high road to London a more pleasant 
prospect than the glens and barren hills of " the land o'cakes." 
He had emigrated at an early age ; and after a few years in 
London, and a few more in India, had made his nest in the 
south of England. — Such were the outlines of his personal 
history which he voluntarily gave us. I could not easily make 



38 JOURNAL. 

him believe that I had learned the English language in Amer- 
ica ; and he eagerly enquired if all the Americans talked as 
I did. At Hatton, a httle hamlet on the road, we drew up 
before a small, plain house, to take in a young Oxonian. A 
fat old gentleman, in a bob wig and clerical dress, with a long 
pipe in his mouth, came out to take leave of his former pupil. 
" Farewell, Charles ; God bless you, my dear fellow ; — take 
care of yourself ; farewell, farewell," — said the old man 
shaking his young friend heartily by the hand. This was 
DocT. Parr, the famous Greek scholar, whose name is fa- 
miliar to the literati all over Europe. The young student 
gave us some anecdotes of the doctor, whom he spoke of with 
enthusiasm. He is Vicar of Hatton ; and his little church, 
capable of holding twenty families, is buried imder a clump 
of elms, at a small distance from the road. His authority 
among his parishioners is unbounded ; and he employs it to the 
benevolent purpose of healing their differences, and advising 
them in all their little concerns. Instead of preaching his 
own sermons, he takes a volume of Barrow or Tillotson into 
the pulpit, — gives some account of the author, — reads a dis- 
course, — explains as he goes along, and translates the hard 
words into more intelligible English. His salary is only £80 
per annum ; and small as it is, he has no wish for prefer- 
ment.* 

A few miles farther brought us to Warwick, the shiretown 
of the county of thfe same name, and pleasantly situated on 
the bank of the Avon. The church, with its lofty tower, and 
elegant gothic architecture, is an attractive object. But what 
most forcibly arrests the attention is Warwick castle, with its 
broad and buttressed walls rising from the very margin of the 
river. Two pretty high circular towers, massy, and of une- 
qual elevation and architecture, with loop-holes and battle- 



* Dr. Parr is since dead. His being overlooked, in the dispensation 
of church patronage, was owing to his Unitarianism, and general lax- 
ity of religious principle ; of which he made little secret. For some- 
time before his death, it was his custom to mutilate the liturgy— still 
retaining his living in the national church, to whose articles and formu- 
laries he had repeatedly subscribed his assent. 



OXFORD. 37 

ments, project far above the trees of the park, and offer a rest- 
ing place to the rooks, whose nests load the branches of the 
neighbouring trees. While looking on this venerable pile, 
— one of the most magnificent relics of the feudal ages in all 
England, — the mind naturally reverts to those days of chival- 
ry and disturbance, when the Earls of Warwick acted so con- 
spicuous a part in making and unmaking kings. Those times 
have passed away ; and the mailed warriors, who once is- 
sued from the portals of the castle, to mingle in the frays and 
combats of that unsettled period, have slept their final sleep. 

" The knights are dust, 

" And their good swords arc rust, 

" Their souls are with the saints, we trust ;" 

although charity herself could scarcely subscribe to the last 
sentiment of the poet as an article of faith, if it be meant to 
apply to them all. Now, the stillness which brooded over 
the castle, and its shady walks and bowers, tinged by the rays 
of a bright morning sun, forcibly contrasted with the martial 
appearance of the fortress, and indicated how changed is the 
genius of the present times, from that of the period to which 
I have alluded. The Avon is here about fifteen or twenty 
yards wide ; and by the gentleness of the current, is fully 
entitled to the epithet of " sofl;-flowing." It winds along 
through a range of beautiful meadows ; and " the sedge- 
crowned sisters" which haunt its margin, give a rural I and 
neglected appearance to the stream immortalized by the 
genius of Shakspeare. 

Nothing worthy of particular observation presented itself 
till we came in sight of the obelisk at Blenheim, four or five 
miles from Oxford, whence the spires and domes of that fa- 
mous seat of learning were visible. It is unnecessary to say 
that all my powers of attention were called forth, as we drove 
into this city of colleges and chapels ; and that I consented 
to leave it thus hastily only in the hope of revisiting it under 
circumstances more favourable for observation. Terra time 
had just commenced, and gowns and square caps had begun 
to make their appearance in the streets. We stopped only 
long enough to change horses^ — a matter quicMy despatched 



38 JOURNAL. 

with an English stage-coach — and as we left the city, crossed 
the muse -haunted Isis by a neat stone bridge. This is a very 
beautiful river, wandering through an expanse of meadow as 
level as a bowling-green. The road soon leads up a hill com- 
manding a delightful view of the city and adjacent plain:. 
The Thames, which gives name to the father of English 
rivers, is much smaller than the Isis, into which it empties. 
Oui\way now lay along a gently undulating country, rich with 
cultivation, and ornamented with villages, parks, and country 
seats. Henley upon Thames, once the residence of Cardinal 
Wolsey, before he became acquainted with courts, is charm- 
ingly situated in a deep valley. Night overtook us soon after 
passing Great Marlow ; and the remaming places, however 
resplendent by gas light, would shine but little in description. 
We rattled over the pavements of Maidenhead, leaving Wind- 
sor Castle to the right, and Eton College to the left — skim- 
med Hounslow heath, no longer a heath, but enclosed and 
cultivated — routed the swine of Brentford — crossed Turnham 
Green, though we could neither see nor feel any thing but 
pavements — clattered along the narrow street of Hammer- 
smith — arrived at Kensington, not forgetting Swift's pun about 
the peas, and Kensington, and Turn 'em green — all the way 
for miles brilliant with gas-light — entered Piccadilly by Hyde 
Park — wheeled through certain intricate lanes into High 
Holborn, and were set down in the court of the " George and 
Blue Boar," in the midst of London. 



CHAPTER IV. 

LONDON — ST. Paul's — bow church — st. Clement's danes — bt. An- 
drew's, HOLBORN FULHAM BISHOJP OF LONDON FULHAM CHURCH- 
YARD TOMBS OF THE BISHOPS WALK TO LONDON. 

London has few hoarding-houses, like those in the large 
cities in the United States. Strangers either establish them- 
selves in the Hotels, if they can afford the expense ; or in 
private lodgings, where they can live as quietly and econom- 



ST. PAUL'S. 



39 



ically as they please, bating the high rent at which apart- 
ments are let. We accommodated ourselves with the latter, 
in one of the streets leading from the Strand to the river, 
for which we paid two guineas a week ; and were soon at 
leisure to commence exploring the curiosities of this mighty 
metropolis. 

A stranger naturally goes to St. Paul's among the first 
places he visits, attracted thither by the fame of the temple, 
and the fine cathedral music, if he has any taste for that 
science. Morning prayer was nearly concluded when 1 en- 
tered ; and as the gates of the choir are always closed on 
the conclusion of the second lesson, I Avas shown into the 
gallery. Here, I counted about one hundred people assem- 
bled for worship in this vast building ! The preacher's dis- 
course was made up of common-place thoughts, expressed 
in very ordinary language, but delivered in a pompous style, 
as though the speaker was not unconscious of his fine voice 
and rhetorical abilities. An eye-glass, occasionally interpo- 
sed, supplied the place of a pair of spectacles, but added 
nothing to the mipressiveness of his delivery. There was 
little either in his manner, or the matter of his discourse, to 
edify or impress ; and he was evidently complimented by a 
very small share of the attention of the audience » 

After service was over, I spent a few minutes in looking at 
the statues, and surveying the proportions of this ecclesiasti- 
cal pile — the glory of British architecture. The side-aisles, 
with their long succession of arches — the lofty ceiling of the 
nave — the beautiful mosaic pavement of white and blue mar- 
ble, the echoing dome, with its gorgeous paintings, resound- 
ing to the slightest foot-fall of the spectator — the vastness of 
the space inclosed — all conspire to fill the imagination with 
wonder and delight. Monumental statutes of Howard, of 
Dr. Johnson, of Nelson and Cornwallis, and other British 
worthies, who have fought the battles, or otherwise contribu- 
ted to the fame, of their country, present their cold and mo- 
tionless marble forms on every side ; and from the base of 
the dome hang the torn banners of enemies overthrown in 
battle. Although it becomes a religious people to attribute 



40 



JOURNAL. 



all the glory of success in war, to " the Lord of Hosts ;" yet 
the propriety of displaying these mementos of " wars and 
fightings," which come of the unsubdued lusts of men, in a 
consecrated temple of the Prince of Peace, may perhaps be 
questioned. The associations connected with a sight of 
these trophies, gathered at Trafalgar, and on the well-fought 
field of Talavera, are certainly very little in harmony with the 
feelings suitable to a place of divine worship. 

Only a small portion of the cathedral is used for divine 
service on ordinary occasions. The place assigned for 
the daily service is the choir — a space at the east end of the 
building, equal to the area of an ordinary church ; and sepa- 
ted from the rest by a screen, or partition, about fifteen feet 
in height. This is decorated with rich carving in oak, repre- 
senting fruits, foliage, the heads and wings of cherubim, 
&c. from the chissel of Grinlin Gibbons, whose fame in this 
species of work is unrivalled. The stalls of the Dean and 
Prebendaries, ranged around the sides of the choir, are ex- 
quisitely wrought of English oak — a species of wood admi- 
rably adapted for this purpose, by the closeness and hardness 
of its texture. Time and exposure to the air have changed 
its colour to a rich chesnut brown, than which, no colour can 
be more appropriate to the interior of a place of worship. 

Neither the exterior of St. Paul's, nor that of any church 
I have yet observed in this country, presents that strong con- 
trast of colours, which, in the plenitude of our bad taste, we 
are so fond of exhibiting on our churches in America. Most 
of them are built of the Portland stone ; and as this material 
is used, and no other, for the whole exterior of the building 
a perfect uniformity of colour is preserved, from the founda- 
tion to the top of the spire. Any variety in this respect only 
gives the edifice a tawdry appearance, materially detracting 
from its elegance and simplicity. The hue of the Portland 
free-stone is however ill-suited to such an atmosphere as that 
of London — indeed, it is difficult to conceive of any colour 
except black, which can long preserve its identity, in an at- 
mosphere perpetually charged with coal-smoke, which would 
speedily tarnish a palace of gold. The general hue of the 



LONDON. 41 

walls, originally of a pale cream-colour, becomes a dirty 
brown ; and this has been the fate of the magnificent St. 
Paul's. On some of the projecting mouldings, and sides of 
pillars most exposed to the rains, the primitive colour of the 
stone is preserved ; and here and there stripes of white are 
visible, where the water has coursed down the sides of the 
building ; so that the eiFect of the architecture is seriously 
impaired by this motley appearance, for which there is no 
remedy. It is partly owing to this, and partly to the confined 
space about St. Paul's, that the first view of the cathedral 
is less striking than is anticipated. It is not till after a long 
acquaintance, that its majestic proportions, and fine combina- 
tion of parts, are fully felt and acknowledged. 

In the afternoon, I attended service at St. Mary-le-bow, 
Cheapside, where I was not more successful in finding a con- 
gregation. Seventy or eighty hearers belov/, and nearly as 
many charity children in the gallery, composed the whole 
audience, in a church capable of containing twelve hundred. 
The duty of making the responses, devolved on the clerk and 
charity children ; and my ears were stunned with their harsh 
and tuneless voices, murdering the chants in a manner I had 
never witnessed. 

On the following Sunday, (Oct. 19,) I paid my devotions 
in St. -Clement's Danes, the rector of which is Mr. Gurney, 
almost the only Calvinistic preacher of the Establishment, in 
the metropolis. His place was supplied this morning by his 
son, a young man of about thirty. Although my seat was near 
the desk, I did not even hear the sound of his voice till he 
v/as considerably advanced in the service ; nor could I clear- 
ly distinguish a whole sentence from beginning to end. The 
church, it is true, is most unfortunately situated for hearing, 
being placed in the middle of the Strand, one of the most 
public thoroughfares of London ; but the preacher's voice 
was distinct enough in the pulpit, for which he had evidently 
reserved his strength. It would be difficult to vindicate the 
propriety of throwing the impressive service of the church 
into the back ground, to render the sermon more prominent 
and attractive. The preacher's discourse was animated and 



42 JOURNAL. 

impressive, though it had very httle method. Like all the 
English preachers I have yet heard, and indeed, like most 
of our own, his delivery was wanting in freedom ; or, as the 
Rev. Mr. Balwhidder would say, " it was too costive." He 
was hampered by his notes, which, it was obvious, he had 
studied very little. Here, too, the singing and responding 
were committed to the clerk and charity children ; for what 
reason, it would be difficult to say. The former was harsh 
and discordant, and the latter drawling and monotonous. 
The audience was very numerous and attentive. 

After going to several churches in the afternoon, where I 
found I was either too early or too late, I entered St. An- 
drews', Holborn, just after the preacher had named his text. 
His discourse on " walking in the Spirit" was animated, full 
of excellent matter, and delivered with singular eloquence to 
a thronged audience, who gave him the most profound atten- 
tion. The talents, and piety of the preacher would entitle 
him to a place among the first of Christian orators ; but to all 
my inquiries who he was ? I only received for answer — " I 
don't know, Fm sure" — a mode of negation with which my 
ears are becoming familiar. The organ of this church has 
a most delightful tone ; and when blended with the well dis- 
ciplined voices of near two hundred charity children, the ef- 
fect was most solemn and impressive. 

St. Andrews is another monument of the architectural 
skill of Sir C. Wren, and of about the same date as St. 
Paul's. The chancel window of stained glass, representing 
the Lord's supper in the lower division, and in the upper one 
his ascension, is a most beautiful production of the art. 

Having occasion to wait on the Bishop of London, I took 
the road, one fine morning, to Fulham, the covintry residence 
of the Bishop. The distance from the metropolis is six miles, 
and the palace stands about half a mile from Fulham village. 
A winding carriage-road, bordered on either side with vene- 
rable elms, leads over a perfectly level plain to the mansion, 
which is a plain brick edifice, grown dingy with age, and 
destitute of any pretensions to magnificence. It stands on 
the north bank of the Thames, in the midst of an extensive 



FULHAM. 43 

park, over whose bosom are scattered innumerable clumps 
of trees ; but the grounds have a neglected appearance ; and 
the serpentine canal, which skirts along the road leading to 
the palace, was choked with weeds, and covered with " the 
green mantle of the standing pool." These circumstances, 
together with the seclusion of the spot, give it an air of rural 
quietness and beauty, the more striking from its proximity to the 
thronged metropolis. Here, the amiable Porteus expired, in 
1809 ; and it is easy to conceive, that his mild spirit took pe- 
culiar delight in these peaceful shades, whenever his official 
duties would allow him to retire from the harassing occupations 
of his extensive charge. During my ride, which was through 
Chelsea, I had leisure to admire the immense gardens, re- 
plenished with fruit-trees, and vegetables of every descrip- 
tion, for the markets of the metropolis. Hundreds of acres 
seemed to be under this species of cultivation ; with many a 
strip of board nailed to the walls, bearing the startling in- 
scription : — " Beware of man-traps and spring-guns." These 
mementos, indeed, obtrude themselves on the sight from al- 
most every garden and pleasure-ground in the island. They 
may be necessary for the preservation of game and fruit ; 
but their effect on the nerves of an American is far from 
agreeable. 

I found the Bishop* at home ; and after sending up my 
card, was shown into the library. While he was perusing 
my letters, I had an opportunity of studying his features and 
appearance. His age is apparently near sixty — his complex- 
ion sallow and unhealthy, like that of a man of studious ha- 
bits ; the expression of his countenance benevolent, rather than 
marked with lines of strong thought ; and his person thin and 
emaciated. He had on the usual episcopal dress, consisting 
of a bob wig, a cassoc, and straight-breasted coat, buttoned 
up to the neck. On his table lay a pile of letters, which he 
seemed to be perusing and answering ; but he pushed them 
aside, and immediately entered into conversation, putting a 
variety of questions relative to the church in the United 
States, and the state of literature amongst us. On the sub- 

* Now Archbishop of Canterbury. 



44 JOtJRNAt. ■■ 

ject of Unitarianism, he Was particularly inquisitive. Speak* 
ing of our literary men, he observed, " You have some able 
writers in your country. — I read the North American Re- 
view, and I think some of the articles admirably Avritten, and 
with a juster judgement on the merits of the books reviewed, 
than is shown by our ireviewers. But the mystery of review- 
ing here wants explaining. The writer, for instance, must 
not condemn a book, which stands on the shelves of his pub- 
lisher.— Then, again, he considers to what religious or politi- 
cal party the author belongs, and the work is approved or 
condemned accordingly. The Edinburgh Review has often 
been highly inconsistent ; sometimes depreciating, and then 
commending the same work, according to the immediate 
purpose to be answered. It is decidedly hostile to Chris- 
tianity ; but has now sunk almost out of notice in this coun- 
try." After remaining near an hour, I rose to take leave ; 
but he still detained me, standing and conversing, which led 
me to hope that my visit had not been vinpardonably prolong- 
ed. His library is a small apartment, veiy plainly but neatly 
fitted up, and looking out on the Thames, which glides peace- 
fully along a few yards from the windows. The impression 
I received from the interview was, that his lordship's talents 
are of a highly respectable stamp — his knowledge general,, 
and his disposition amiable and benevolent. He talks much, 
but not fluently, nor always with a happy choice of expres- 
sions — appearing sometimes to be at a loss for proper words, 
and often stopping to change the form of a sentence. These 
defects disappear, however, before the kindness and affability 
of his manners. 

Wishing to enjoy new prospects, as the day was remarka- 
bly fine, instead of returning by the same route, I took 
the road to Fulham bridge, intending to cross and return on 
the Surrey side of the river. Recollecting that the church- 
yard contained the ashes of many of the Bishops of London 
since the Reformation, I could not resist the temptation to 
walk among the tombs of these illustrious dead, and to read 
on their monuments those names, which shall " be had in 
everlasting remembrance." A narrow, winding street, 



FULHAM. 45 

brought me to the humble gate-way which opens into the 
church-yard, a space of about an acre and a half, irregularly 
intersected by gravelled walks. The place, secluded in itself, 
is rendered still more so, by the trees and shrubbery which 
surround it, disclosing, through an opening in the foliage, the 
river, which flows by at a little distance. The church is 
situated in an angle of the area ; and is one of those humble 
structures on which Time has laid his corroding hand, and 
whose breaches have been ill supplied by patches of modern 
masoniy. Here is a richly carved window, of the ancient 
gothic proportions ; and there, one more light and modern 
presents its semicircular sweep, in bad accordance with the 
original style of the building. The place is darkly shaded 
with elms ; and no spot can be conceived better fitted for 
the last repose of the dead, or more calculated to awaken 
solemn reflections. 

A groupe of monuments, near the chancel window, first 
arrested my attention ; and after a few steps, I found myself 
on the spot where repose the ashes of those prelates, most of 
whom, it is no judgment of charity to say, have received an 
unfading crown of glory, in exchange for an earthly mitre. 
Here sleep the mortal remains of Gibson, of Sherlock, of 
Terrick, of Hayter, of Lowth, of Porteus, of Randolph, with 
many others, whose names are dear to every Christian 
scholar. While the tombs of some are decorated with the 
crosier and mitre, the insignia of their sacred office, the feel- 
ing which inscribed the mausolea of others seems to have 
been — 

" His monument shall be his name alone." 
None of them can be called magnificent, and a few are quite 
unadorned. That of the illustrious Lowth is remarkable for 
its plainness, and the simplicity of its inscription ; — " Robert 
Lowth, D. D. Lord Bishop of London, died Nov. 3d, 1784.' 
This is all. That of another of his fellow sleepers simply 
bears on a plain marble slab, the following characteristic in- 
scription — " H. London. E< ftj? h ru ^ecv^a* mdccxii," 



* Only in the cross. Gal, vi. 14. 



46 JOURNAL. 

Observing a cluster of tablets in another part of the church- 
yard, I approached them, and read the names of John Owen, 
and Granville Sharp ; the one the Secretary, the defender, 
and the historian of the British and Foreign Bible Society ; 
and the' other, the unwearied champion of the oppressed 
Africans, while as yet there was no eye to pity them, and no 
arm had been raised in their defence. Here sleep this illus- 
trious pair, side by side ; with a square tablet of stone erect- 
ed over each, exactly alike in form and size. That of Owen 
bears the familiar, and in this case, most appropi'iate inscrip- 
tion, " Blessed are the dead," &;c. As I stood by their 
graves, with the smiling river gliding in full majesty before 
rne, the pensive lines of the poet Collins occurred to my re- 
collection, as applicable to each : — 

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore, 
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest ; 
And oft suspend the dashing oar, 
To bid thy gentle spirit rest. 

At a little distance, I observed a monument erected over the 
grave of a young Frenchman, De La Bigne, with the appro- 
priate motto from Pope's Elegy ; " By foreign hands thy dy- 
ing eyes were closed," &c. There is, I know not why, a 
dreariness in the thought of dying on a foreign soil, although 
" by strangers honoured, and by strangers mourned." It is 
a natural feeling, not easily corrected by the obvious reflec- 
tion, that it matters not in what place " the earthly house of 
this tabernacle" is taken down, since it must sooner or later 
be dissolved some where ; nor from what point on this little 
globe the spirit takes its flight, provided it arrives by a safe 
passage at the long desired resting-place, in " the house not 
made with hands." 

Having gratified my curiosity, and indulged, I would hope, 
a better and far different feeling, in this consecrated spot, I 
pursued my walk over the wooden bridge, to Putney, on the 
Surrey side. The road towards London lies along a gentle 
eminence, commanding in most places a delightful view of 
the valley, through which the Thames pursues its serpentine 
course. To have a right conception of the prospect, one 



LONDON. ' 47 

must imagine a plain, expanded to the width of three or four 
miles from north to south, through which the river makes its 
way to the eastward, but nearest the southern margin of the 
valley. Here commences a gently undulating country, along 
which, and considerably elevated above the plain, lay the 
road I was pursuing. On attaining an eminence, I stopped 
to survey a wide expanse of fertile meadows " clothed with 
flocks," mai'ked with the dark green lines of the hawthorn 
hedge, and sprinkled with cottages and country seats. The 
elm, the willow, and numerous other forest trees, brought 
their glories to adorn the landscape ; and on turning to the 
north-east, the dun drapery of London appeared hanging in 
the air, with the huge bulk of Westminster Abbey dimly 
descried through the atmosphere of smoke. Being still un- 
successful in finding a coach io London, although I met them 
in abundance, I pursued my walk, till I began to plunge again 
into the thronged streets of the city. Passing by Vauxhall, 
the seat and throne of plebeian dissipation ; and threading 
" the Bishop's Walk," at Lambeth, a walled passage over- 
hung with trees, I came to " the stairs" of Waterloo bridge ; 
and ascending the terrace by just fifty steps, I stopped to 
admire this stupendous and beautiful work, as compact and 
immoveable as if it had been hewn out of the solid rock. 
There is, in fact, nothing but granite to be seen in the whole 
structure, save the appendages about the lamps. I paid my 
penny toll, and crossed to my lodgings with aching feet, hav- 
ing walked nine or ten miles with little intermission. 



48 JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER V. 



HAMPSTEAD — STATUE IN HYDE PARK — A RADICAL PARSON REV. T. H. 

HORNE — CHRIST CHURCH PREACHER AT ST. ANNS DR. RUDGE MR. 

IRVING DR. GASKIN DR. WATTS. 

Our street is enlivened every evening with serenades ; and 
while I am writing, clarionets, French horns, and the reed of 
Pan, are performing a concert under my window. A little 
boy with his harp often gives us some delightful airs, with 
almost the skill of a master, and with a wild and self-taught 
grace. A few evenings since, we had all the above mention- 
ed instruments, with the addition of a drum, a Highland bag. 
pipe, and an organ, performing together, though, unhappily 
for our ears, not in concert. The little harper prevailed ; and 
regaled us with some of the sweetest music, after his more 
noisy competitors had left the field. The expected guerdon 
of these roving minstrels is a handful of coppers. 

Oct. 22. — After the rains, which have poured down inces- 
santly since our arrival in England, we are now beginning to 
have some delightful weather. We yesterday availed our- 
selves of the respite, by making an excursion to Hampstead, 
to wait on the American Minister. The road lies across a 
plain, stretching about four miles to the north-west of St. 
Paul's, where an ascent commences, gradually increasing in 
steepness, till it terminates on the " Heath," above the vil- 
lage of Hampstead. The view from this point is at once ex- 
tensive, and diversified with a great variety of grand and 
beautiful objects. London lay stretched out beneath us, ob- 
scured, as usual, by a vast cloud of smoke, above which, St. 
Paul's reared its huge dome, which seemed to be suspended 
in the air, or rather, to rest on the sea of vapour which was 
spread around its base. To the east and west, the eye 
ranged over that 

« vale of bliss, those softly swelling hills, 

On which the power of cultivation lies ;" 



LDNDON. 49 

and among which, the rural muse of Thompson so much de- 
lighted to rove. It is now a season of the year when the 
forests in America are clothed in that brilliant and many- 
coloured robe of fading foliage, which is exhibited, it is said, 
in no other part of the world. Autumn has here no such 
magical effects. The fields are still beautifully green, and 
the forests exhibit an almost unvaried mass of brown colour 
tinged with yellow. I am disposed to attribute this acknow- 
ledged sameness to a want of variety in the forest trees them- 
selves. The elm, a different species from ours, predominates 
every where ; and of the lordly oak, there are here few vari- 
eties. I miss the bright scarlet of the sumac, the button wood, 
and the white oak ; and the pale yellow of the forest poplar, 
as well as the brown of the chesnut ; although the latter is 
seen in small quantities. There are some delightful little 
groves of eJms about Hampstead ; and the sensation, in ramb- 
ling over the broken ground, and breathing the pure air of 
the heath, was exhilirating. After tiring ourselves with ex- 
ercise, and satiating our eyes with the glorious landscape, we 
descended to the village ; but were disappointed in not find- 
ing the Minister or his family at home. 

We returned by the way of Hyde Park Corner, to look at 

the famous statue of " Achilles the Defender," lately erected 

by the British ladies to the honour of Lord Wellington, and 

to perpetuate the memory of his warlike achievements on 

the continent. It was cast from twelve twenty-four pounders, 

captured in the battles of Salamanca, Vittoria, Toulouse, 

and Waterloo — weighs upwards of thirty tons, and is eighteen 

feet high. The pedestal is of granite, and of nearly the 

same height with the statue. Achilles is represented in an 

altitude of combat, with his shield advanced so as to cover 

his body, and his right arm drawn a httle back prepared to 

strike. Gigantic strength appears in the bold relief of the 

muscles, and determined resolution in the features. It was 

cast in the mould of one at Monte Cavallo, the original, it is 

said, being represented in the act of reining in a fiery steed ; 

but by a slight variation in the position of the arms, the 

statue was adapted to its present character. The monument 



50 JOURNAL. 

is so near Apsly House the residence of the hero of Water- 
loo, that his Lordship may have ever in view this memorial of 
his military achievements. Although erected by his fair 
country-women, they are said to complain that they are de- 
barred from seeing it — their husbands and fathers alleging, 
as a reason for the prohibition, certain oversights in the dis- 
position of the drapery, which, scanty as it is, need not per- 
haps have been all suspended from the left arm. 

We dined with an Irish gentleman, v/here we met Dr. 

F. , a radical parson, who is so much dissatisfied Avith 

abuses, both civil and ecclesiastical, in his own country, that 
he has taken up his residence at Ghent, only visiting his parish 
once or twice a year to collect his tithes. He spoke feeling- 
ly, and in no very measured terms of censure, of the dignity 
and state assumed by the Bishops ; but did not tippear to con- 
sider non-residence as one of the crying abuses of the times. 
After dinner, cards were introduced, and the radical Doctor 
made one of a quiet party at whist. I excused myself on 
the plea that I did not know one card from another ; a plea 
which was courteously allowed to be valid. 

A few days after, I walked to Islington to pay my respects 
to the Rev. Mr. Home, whose " Imroductioii to the stud)^ 
of the Scriptures' has gained him so deserved a reputation 
among students in Theology. I found him in his little study, 
with piles of books occupying the table and floor in promiscu- 
ous confusion ; and interrupted him in the midst of his pre- 
paration for the pulpit. It required but a fev/ minutes to be- 
come acquainted with one so frank and communicative. I 
wished to draw from him some particulars relative to the com- 
pilation of his invaluable work, and turned the conversation 
that way. The " Introduction" was the fruit of twenty 
years' labour ; the time devoted to it being often subtracted 
from the usual hours of repose, while his daily exertions were 
otherwise bestowed for his own immediate support, and that 
of his parents and their numerous family. The sale of the 
first edition left him about £30 out of pocket ; the second 
yielded him about £150 ; and the third between £600 and 
£700. This is all the remuneration he has received for 



LONDON. 51 

twenty years' intellectual labour! He did not receive a 
university education, his early life having been passed in the 
employ of booksellers ; but this disadvantage was counter- 
balanced by his indefatigable industry and application to 
study. The publication of his work on theology first recom- 
mended him to the notice of those in ecclesiastical authority, 
and was the means of his obtaining ordination at the age of 
thirty-eight, as well as a diploma from the University of Cam- 
bridge. Ever since his ordination he has been curate to the 
Rev. Mr. Crowther, of Christ Church, Newgate-street ; a 
station, in which little more is required of him than to preach 
a sermon every Sunday. These, and many other particulars 
of his life, and literary labours, were communicated with 
great frankness and simplicity. The only regret he felt was 
his inability to purchase books — his library not exceeding 
two thousand volumes, nine hundred of which are books of 
reference, in the various ancient and modern languages. To 
a remark made by him, that he had been requested to go as 
a missionary to the Cape of Good Hope, I replied, that he 
was serving the cause of religion more effectually by his pen, 
than he probably could in any other way. To this he assent- 
ed ; observing that his forte, if he had any, lay in that ; yet 
were he without a family, he might think it his duty to go. 
With his great frankness of character, a certain ardor and 
liveliness of disposition, his love of piety wherever it exists, 
and the plain simplicity of his manners, it is impossible not 
to be pleased. His moderation has secured to him the es- 
teem of all parties in the church. An Arminian in doctrine, 
his attachment to the established forms of worship and church 
government is of the most decided character, although with., 
out one particle of bitterness. 

As I proposed extending my walk to Stoke-Newington, about 
three miles distant, he offered to show me the way ; and we 
setoff together through the fields over gravelled walks. Our 
visit was intended for the venerable Rector of the church ; 
but as he happened not to be at home, we left our cards, and 
returned by a different rout. As we passed Newington Green 
my companion pointed out a small brick edifice, in which Dr. 



52 JOURNAL. 

Watts preached for many years while residing in the Abny 
family. It is scarcely capacious enough to accommodate two 
hundred persons. We separated at Islington, and I return- 
ed to my lodgings pretty well fatigued with my walk. 

Oct. 26. Christ Church, Newgate Street, is a noble, spa- 
cious building, erected on the site of an ancient church of 
the Franciscans ; and conceals beneath its pavements the 
ashes of many illustrious men of former times. I have al- 
ready mentioned that Mr. Home is curate of this church ; 
and I went this morning to hear him. The congregation 
was very large, amounting to a thousand or twelve hundred, 
and uncommonly^serious and attentive. The responses, con- 
trary to what I had observed elsewhere, were loud and animat- 
ed. How much does this add to the impressiveness of the ser- 
vice ! But the reason is easily explained. Worship, according 
to such a ritual as ours, is strictly social ; it is framed for the 
people as well as the preacher ; and " the sound of many 
voices" is required, to give it all the effect of which it is sus- 
ceptible. The present floilrishing state of this congregation 
is ascribed, by Mr. ^., to the faithful labours of the Vicar, 
Mr. Crowther. When he took charge of the parish a few 
years ago, he was accustomed to meet a congregation of 
not more than a hundred on the Lord's day ; but by his 
spirited sermons and visits from house to house, he soon sue- 
ceeded in re-collecting the scattered flock. I have nowhere 
seen an appearance of greater devotion during the perform- 
ance of the service — the surest test, by which a stranger can 
judge of the state -o?. piety in a congregation. An eloquent 
•preacher will-command the attention of an audience in which 
there is little or no religion, by the attractions of his genius 
independently of his subject ; but to join heartily, and with 
one accord, in the prayers and praises and thanksgivings of 
the liturgy, can proceed only from devotional feelings. 
The discourse of Mr. H., on " the advantages of godliness," 
was plain, scriptural, and practical. The animation of the 
preacher appeared more in the intonations of his voice, than 
in rhetorical gesture, of which he used but little. I was 
amazed to hear the banns of marriage published between; 



LONDON. 



53 



j^orty or fifty couples oi "bachelors and spinsters;'* but the 
surprise lasted no longer than till I had time to recollect the 
extent of some of the parishes in London. Some of these 
comprehend a population of forty, fifty, and even sixty thou- 
sand souls ; and all intentions of matrimony are to be pro- 
claimed in " the parish church," which accounts for the 
alarming number I heard on the present occasion. 

Chance directed me in the afternoon to St. Ann's Church, 
Soho. Here we had a pithy sermon enough, from a Dr. M'C. 

, who was very sarcastic upon those who thought it their 

duty to have a little more religion than their neighbours. His 
harangue was as little edifying as can be imagined ; and 
those who honoured him with their attention must have gone 
away fortified with the most laudable resolutions " not to be 
righteous overmuch." The pungency of his matter, howev- 
er, contrasted strangely with his dull and inanimate delivery ; 
a discrepancy which naturally suggested a suspicion, that he 
might have been indebted to some " gi'and caterer and dry 
nurse of the church" for his homily. At least it would be 
charitable to hope so. 

In the evening, I stepped into St. Sepulchre's, Snow-hilL 
Dr. Rudge, a preacher of some note in the metropolis, is 
evening lecturer here ; and we had a sermon from him in 
behalf of a parochial charity, by which fifty-one poor boys 
of the parish are supported and educated. He took occa- 
sion to remark, that his official situation, (as chaplain to New- 
gate) often led him to hear the confessions of malefactors, 
under sentence of death ; and that in ahnost every instance, 
they ascribed their ruin to their desertion of the house of God, 
and the violation of the day of rest. His manner in the 
pulpit was singularly animated ; but his discourse was ramb- 
ling and immethodical, and the selection of topics by no 
means happy. In violation of all rhetorical propriety, he 
enforced the delivery of his text with gestures, and even 
used them in repeating the Lord's prayer. The church is 
a very spacious one, and was filled this evening to over- 
flowing. The organ is remarkable for the weight and power 
of its tones. 

5* 



54 



JOURNAL. 



Among the strange things which have amused the London- 
ers for some time past, Mr. Irving, minister of the Caledonian 
Chapel, is not the least conspicuous. During the last sum- 
mer, he had a run of popularity almost beyond any thing 
ever known in London, if popularity is to be measured by 
the numbers and rank of an audience. Even the carriages 
of Mr. Canning, Lord Liverpool, Earl Gray, the Lord Chan- 
cellor, the Marquis of Lansdown, Aldermen, Barons bold and 
high-born ladies, graced the avenues which lead to the chapel 
in Hatton garden ; and so numerous was the throng, that 
" tickets of exclusion to the poor," as the ballad hath it,^ 
were issued, one of which was necessary to obtain admission 
into the chapel. Mr. Irving's publication of his " Orations 
and Arguments" was considered by his friends an unfortu- 
nate step for his fame ; as many things appear to advantage 
in the pulpit, which will not so well bear reading. The 
" scripta verba manent ;" and the criticism, which is disarm- 
ed by animated gesture and affecting intonations of voice, 
collects itself to a cooler exercise of its powers, when the 
subject appears in the more tangible shape of a book. The 
result has bfeen unfavourable to the reputation of the Cale- 
donian preacher. The wags have now taken him in hand ; 
and numerous are the parodies on his style, and the carica- 
tures of his person, in which the obliquity of his eyes, and 
certain afi'ectations of singularity in the arrangement of an 
enormous bush of hair, are not forgotten. So much has he 
been the rage, that not less than five or six different en- 
gravings of him adorn the windows of the print shops 
— to say nothing of " the extravagant and erring" ca- 
ricatures, by which he has been exalted into unenviable dis- 
tinction. He is now absent on an excursion to Scotland. 

A few days after, I repeated my call on the venerable Dr. 
Gaskin, and passed an agreeable hour in his study. He is 
now, far advanced in years ; and resides principally at his 
parsonage at Stoke-Newington, of which he is Rector. Dr. 
G. has been extensively known as the active Secretary of 
the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge — a post 
which he occupied for thirty-seven years. What exceeding- 



LONDON. 55 

ly gratified me was, the enthusiasm with which he spoke of 
the late Bishop Dehon, whose Sermons he had procured to 
be re-printed in England. He said he was an ornament to 
the church in America ; and would have been distinguished 
among the first divines, in any church whatever. 

The house of the Abnys, in which the pious and gentle Dr. 
Watts was so long and so hospitably entertained, was point- 
ed out to me ; and I felt a natural desire, prompted by a 
hundred early associations, to take a nearer view of a place 
consecrated as the residence of the children's poet. The 
mansion is a spacious, venerable structure of brick ; and 
stands a little withdrawn from the principal street, leaving 
room for an ample court in front, planted with shrubbery. 
The lofty walls of the building are half concealed by the 
foliage of creeping vines, with their clusters of red berries. 
A turret, surmounted by a large gilt ball, points out to the 
traveller the mansion, where lived one of the best and most 
useful of men. If he should happen to be an Episcopalian, 
and possessed of the candour of a Christian, he will heartily 
join in the encomium pronounced by Dr. Johnson, — " that 
there was nothing in Watts to regret, but that he was a dis- 
senter." The Abnys no longer possess the mansion, which 
has now become the property of an eminent counsellor at 
the London bar. 

I returned in time to dine with the radical Doctor F., 
whom I have mentioned before. Our host, with another 
clergyman, and a naval officer who helped to take the Guer- 
rier from the French, which we afterwards took from the 
English, constituted the party at dinner. We were hospita- 
bly entertained ; but the enmities of the good Doctor, in 
regard to ecclesiastical matters, have in no degree abated. 
Yet when I reflected that he had a living where the tithe-pig 
on his table came from, — a residence at Ghent, and lodgings 
in London for the benefit of the Chadwell waters, I could 
not discover the cause of all the disapprobation he express, 
ed of the church, to whose indulgence he stood so highly 
indebted. 



-56 JOURNAL. 

CHAPTER VI. 



LONDON ATMOSPHERE MURDER OF WEARE POPULAR ENGRAVINGS 

CARICATURES THE TEMPLE TOMBS OF THE CRUSADERS DEAN OF 

WINCHESTER. 

Ail strangers, I believe, are compelled to acknowledge the 
unfriendliness of a London atmosphere on their first arrival, 
at this season of the year. Both my companion and myself 
w^ere seized w^ith a violent catarrh, from vvrhich vs^e have not 
yet recovered ; and we are told that few escape a similar fate. 
Whether it is to be attributed to the dampness of the air, or 
to the thick smoke inhaled — for the smoke, instead of rising, 
rolls down into the streets — is perhaps neither very easy, nor 
very important to determine. The effects are disagreeable 
in the last degree. London is now evacuated of its fashion- 
able inhabitants, nor do they return till after New-year. The 
wealthy citizens go down to enjoy themselves at their country 
seats ; the sportsmen, to renew their amusements in the field ; 
and the statesmen, to recruit their strength against the ap- 
proaching parliamentary contest. 

Dr. Johnson remarked, I believe, that the full tide of Lon- 
don population was at Charing Cross. Possibly this is still 
the case during the season ; that is, when " the west end" 
is replenished from the country. At present, I should select 
High Holborn as exhibiting the greatest throng of passengers ; 
apd next to this, the tide which rolls along eastward from 
Charing Cross through the Strand and Temple Bar, into 
Fleet Street ; and so on to Ludgate hill and St. Paul's. Who- 
ever will take the trouble to inspect the map of London, will 
perceive that these two streets, continued under different 
names, form the main channels of circulation to the west- 
ward of St. Paul's. On Ludgate hill the throng is closely 
compressed by the narrowness of the passage ; and there 
are no smaller channels, leading round from the main artery, 
to relieve and facilitate the circulation. Would a person 
amuse himself with such a spectacle as can be seen probably 



LONDON. 57 

in no other part of the world, if a population dense as the 
throng assembled to gaze at soma publick exhibition, yet all 
in motion, and pursuing only their ordinary avocations, let 
him take his station on Ludgate lull in the middle of a fair 
day. I have often paused in my walk to look at the rolling 
mass ; and never without astonishment. 

Nov. 5. No occurrence has so much agitated the public 
mind, since the Cato-street conspiracy, as the murder of 
Weare, and the horrible scene of iniquity disclosed by the 
legal investigations which are now going on. In this instance, 
Justice proved herself to be neither lame nor blind : — the dis- 
covery trod on the heels of the crime, and happened as fol- 
lows : Mr. N , at whose house I had dined a few days 

before, was the attorney of the deceased. While sitting at 
his table, a friend came in and enquired after Weare, as he 
had not been seen for some days. Mr. N. expressed his 
surprise at his absence ; as he had expected him to sign some 
papers. The visiter then remarked, that three or four days 
ago, Thurtell had taken him to Watford in Hertfordshire on 
a shooting excursion, and persuaded him to leave his dog be- 
hind. Thurtell's bad character was known to Mr. N. He 
was a gambler and had once been convicted of manslaugh- 
ter. Weare, too, was a gambler, and was known to have 
always about him a large sum of money. These, with 
some other circumstances, led to the suspicion that there had 
been foul play ; and Mr. N. immediately set off in a post 
chaise for Watford, about sixteen miles from London. The 
gig, in which the parties rode, was traced into a retired lane 
— marks of violence were discovered — the hedge had been 
torn, and a pistol was found in it, with blood and hair on the 
lock. Thurtell, Probert, and Hunt, with some others, were 
then taken into custody. On dragging a pond near by, the 
body of Weare was found, with a handkerchief filled with 
stones tied to it. It appeared on examination, that Thurtell had 
fired a pistol at Weare as they rode together, the ball of which 
had cut his cheek. A desperate struggle ensued, in which 
Weare, though a small man, had nearly strangled his assail- 
ant ; but the latter, when his strength was failing, opened his 



58 JOURNAL, 

pen-knife with his teeth, and cut the jugular vein of his vie- 
tim. 

This incident would deserve no particular notice, were it 
not for the complicated web of iniquity to which it furnish- 
ed the clue, and which beggars all description. Weare was 
the first of seventeen victims marked out for slaughter by 
Thurtell and his fellow conspirators. But the whole of these 
seventeen were gamblers, swindlers, and villains by profes- 
sion, although some of them held a respectable station in so- 
ciety. They had quarrelled among themselves ; had accu- 
sed each other of cheating and ungentleman-like conduct ! 
and a few of the most daring, with Thurtell at their head, 
had sworn the death of the rest. To execute their purpose, 
they had taken houses in various parts of the city, whither it 
Tvas their intention to inveigle one victim after another, and 
satisfy themselves at once with booty and revenge. One 
Wood was made the subject of the first experiment : but his 
suspicions had been awakened, and he narrowly escaped for 
that time. Contrary to the usual course of things, the names 
of the proscribed are covered with infamy. To have been 
devoted to death by Thurtell, is evidence of having been 
concerned with a knot of wretches, who had conspired to 
plunder those whom they could allure to the card table, and 
who had not even the proverbial faithfulness which is said to 
bind together a gang of thieves. The murdered man was a 
gambler ; and Thurtell, in prison, ascribes his ruin to cards 
and the dice-box. A text like this needs no comment : but 
he lesson it speaks to the young beginner in this bewitching 
vice, is an obvious one. Let him take it as an axiom, that 
• there is no height of iniquity to which he may not reach — no 
act of atrocity for which he may not be gradually prepared, 
— by indulging a passion for the gaming table. 

Nov. 8. The thickness of the atmosphere this morning 
is truly astonishing. My room opens by large windows into 
a spacious street — it is nov/ ten o'clock, and I am writing by 
candle-light. Nothing but a dim outline of St. Paul's is visi- 
ble at a distance of a hundred yards. This phenomenon, 
with which one soon grows familiar, is evidently caused by a 



LONDON. 59 

rarified state of the atmosphere ; the sinoke being of greater 
specific gravity than the air rolls down into the streets, and 
produces this unnatural darkness. It is not — what the Eng- 
lish usually call it — a fog, nor any thing like it ; it is nothing 
but the smoke of their own chimneys, soiling every thing 
with which it com^s in contact. 

The print shops in London furnish a never-failing source 
of amusement to the admirers of the imitative art. As na- 
tional character is said to be truly illustrated by popular 
songs, I cannot help thinking that much may be gleaned to 
the same purpose fi'om the popular engravings, and particu- 
larly the caricatures, which meet the eye in almost every 
street. What Hamlet said of the actors, may with more 
truth be applied to the caricatures, in which the English so 
much delight ; " they are the abstract and brief chronicles 
of the times." One has only to make a diligent use of his 
eyes in walking the streets, to convince himself, that the 
English are a fox-hunting, horse-racing, tandem -driving, 
shooting, boxing, people. The illustration of these amuse- 
ments gives full employment to the pencil of the painter, and 
the graver of the caricaturist. The productions of the lat- 
ter are wonderfully illustrative of the broad humour of the 
English people. No occurrence, a little out of the ordinary 
course of things, escapes them ; especially if it happens to 
border on the ludicrous ; nor are private feelings much re- 
spected, in the exposure of whatever is ridiculous in itself, 
or capable of being made so. It is incredible how many 
artists find support in engraving, frequently in the most finish- 
ed and costly manner, the portraits of favourite race-horses, 
hounds, spaniels, &c., which could happen only in a nation, 
where the honors of the turf and of the field were held in 
high repute ; nor would any people think of immortalizing 
such contemptible creatures, as Crib, Belcher, Molineaux, 
and gipsey Ben, but those, among whom the pugilistic science 
was held in great estimation. — Wilkie's designs from low 
life are much celebrated ; and Burnet's merit, both as a de- 
lineator and engraver of similar subjects, is far from being 
contemptible. 



60 



JOURNAL. 



Sunday, Nov. 9. This morning I went to the Temple to 
hear the Dean of Winchester, Dr. Rennell. The Temple 
Church was erected as early as the reign of Henry the Sec- 
ond, and in the Gothic style prevalent in that age ; but in the 
repairs it has undergone, not much attention appears to have 
been paid to the original design. On turning down from 
Fleet Street, through one of the dark alleys of the Temple, 
you suddenly come to a beautifully carved Saxon arch, which 
opens into the vestibule of the church. The porch is spa- 
cious and circular ; and the dome rests on six clustered col- 
umns, branching off into arches above. The walls and col- 
umns of the vestibule are adorned with monuments of the illus- 
trious dead ; among which, the names of Plowden, Selden, 
Thurlow, and other disciples of the British Themis, are con- 
spicuous. 

But the most striking objects are the tombs of the cru- 
saders, who fought the Paynims in the Holy Land. Their 
effigies cut in marble, as large as life, and clad in armour, 
with their helmets, shields, and gloves of mail, lie stretch- 
ed at full length on the pavement ; and to me had a singu- 
larly solemn and impressive effect The " Red Cross knights 
who fought in the Holy Land" are distinguished from the 
rest by having their legs crossed — their feet resting on a 
lamb, the emblem of their order. Their names have perish- 
ed with them ; and even the marble effigies of their iron 
frames are slowly yielding to the corroding hand of time, and 
crumbling into decay. " There they lie, with the mighty, 
gone down to hell* with their weapons of war, though they 



* It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the word hell is a translation 
of sheol ; and means in this place, the grave, or more properly, the 
catacombs, in which the Egyptian warriors, whose fate was announced 
by the prophet, were buried. The xxxii. chapter of Ezekiel, from the 
I7th verse to the end, is in a strain of the most terrible sublimity. 
The fall of the Egyptian King and his warriors is the subject of this 
prophetic ode. A place is ordered to be prepared for them " in the 
nether parts of the earth" — the prophet delivers his message, pronounces 
their fate, and commands those who buried the slain, to drag the 
♦' young lion of the nations" and his armed host, to the subterraneous 



LONDON. 61 

caused their terror in the land of the living : — they have laid 
their swords under their heads ; — they lie with them that are 
slain with the sword ; — 

"Where they an equal honor share, 

" Who buried or unburied are. 

" Where Agamemnon knows no more 

" Than Irus, he condemned before. 

" Whore fair Achilles' and Thersites lie, 

" Equally naked, poor, and . dry." 

The feelings inspired by these mementos at the entrance 
of the church were not ill suited to the subject of the good 
Dean's discoui'se : — " For I am a stranger with thee, and a 
sojourner, as all my fathers were." The age and infirmities 
of the preacher did not hinder him from delivering his dis- 
course with great animation. Many passages were replete 
with genuine pathos and Christian feeling, and caught a mo- 
ment's attention from the young Templars, who in part com- 
posed the audience. They appeared generally to be thinking 



mansions made ready for their reception. At the tumult and commo- 
tion which this mighty work occasions, the shades of the dead are 
roused from their couches to enquire the cause. They see the king of 
Egypt, and welcome his arrival among them, with such congratulations, 
as proud spirits, suffering under hopeless torture and disgrace, may be 
supposed to use. Pharaoh being now introduced into this congenial 
company, the prophet leads him all around the sides of the pit ; shows 
him the gloomy mansions of former tyrants ; tells their names as he 
goes along; alludes to the former terror of their arms, only to contrast 
it with their present abject, helpless condition, declares that these op- 
pressors were not only cut off from the land of the living, but had gone 
down into the pit uncircumcised — that is, they had died in their sins, 
and would have no resurrection to life eternal ; and finally shows to 
the astonished king the place destined for him in the midst of the un- 
circumcised, and of them that had been slain with the sword. The im- 
agery of this prophetic ode is more than sublime — it is truly terrific; 
and no reader of taste can accompany the prophet in this funeral pro- 
cession through the gloomy mansions of Hades, without a sentiment of 
awe amounting almost to horror. The passage was naturally brought 
to mind, by a sight of the tombs containing the ashes of the once 
proud and warlike Templars. 

6 



62 JOURNAL. 

of other matters, and Vtent through the service very care- 
lessly. 

The Temple is not wliat its name imports, a single build- 
ing ; but a large cluster of them, situated between Fleet 
street and the Thames, and stretching for some distance 
along the river. These are very plain brick edifices, throM^n 
together without any regularity, vvith innumerable courts 
and alleys between. They are wholl}^ occupied by gentle- 
men of the robe and students at law, and have a very bachelor- 
like appearance. The name is derived from the Knights 
Templars, who formerly occupied this quarter of the city. 
On the suppression of their order, the Temple was purchas- 
ed by the professors of the common law, and converted into 
inns. 

I had, soon after, the pleasure of becoming acquainted with 
the Dean of Winchester, and of dining with him at his hotel. 
There are some very strong traits of originality about him. 
He has the character of being very learned ; he is often ab- 
sent, and consequently, forgetful of persons, places, and 
things ; and his memory is so plentifully stored with Latin 
and Greek, that he pours forth long quotations from the >. 
poets and orators of antiquity, in his ordinary conversation. 
His reputation as an eloquent preacher has been long estab- 
lished ; and all speak highly of his piety and goodness of 
heart. The ardor and vivacity of his disposition will appear 
from the conversation which took place. He was eager in 
his enquiries about America ; and snatching up his pen, be- 
gan to note down my replies. " Where could he find the 
best account of the United States — of the state of societ)'- — 
who had written the best history ?" " Ramsay has written the 
history very well ; and Marshall's Life of Washington re- 
'cords the events of the revolution ; but his style is not invi- 
ing." — " I don't care for the style — I want facts" — and he 
dashed away with his pen. — " President Dwight has written 
on the manners and habits of the people of New-England ; 
and the most candid and correct account given of us by a 
foreigner, is contained in a series of letters published in the 
Christian Observer. Rev. Mr. H. — « The Christian Obser- 



LONDON. ' 63 

ver ! Isn't there something wrong about that work ?" The 
Dean. — " Have you any Roman Cathohcs amongst you 1 Are 
they increasing ?" " We have a few ; and they increase only 
in the ratio of the population. There is a schism amongst 
them-3-they are divided into two parties ; the liberal, who 
would have been burnt as heretics in Spain, a few years ago ; 
and the bigotted, who would keep their flocks, the lowest of 
them at least, in ignorance." The Dean I am told, had 
nearly been ensnared by their sophistries while a young 
man, and now views them with a species of horror. His 
questions followed each other so rapidly, and were so uncon- 
nected, that his sheet of notes must have been a curious med- 
ley. He often spoke of his son, the vicar of Kensington, 
with all the pride and affection of a gratified father. I said, 
his name was not unknown in America — we were acquainted 
with his work on skepticism, in opposition to the materialism 
of Lawrence and Bichat. At this intelligence, he expressed 
himself extremely gratified. He said that the see of Calcut- 
ta had been offered to his son, but that he felt it his duty 
to decline it.* I parted from the Dean, no less delighted 
with his frankness and originality, than with the ardor and 
vivacity of his feelings. 



* This distingaished young man, in whom the Christian, the gentle- 
man, and the scholar were united in no common degree, died a few 
months before I left England ; and his death was felt as a public loss. 
He had been married but a liitle time ; and had his life been spared, 
he would have undoubtedly attained a high station in the Church he 
was so well qualified to adorn. 



64 JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER VI. 



JEWS OF LONDON SIR J. A. r. ANECDOTES OF LORD TIIURLOW AND 

BISHOP HORSLEY MAGDALEN IIOSTITAL BISHOP OF DURHAM— HAR- 
ROW — AUTHOR OF THE VELVET CUSHION. 

Nov. 10. My companion has left me for France, and 1 
have taken up my quarters in Chapel Place, Cavendish 
Square, quite in the " west end" of the tovi^Ui Among the 
nuisances of London to which I have not jet got reconciled, 
is the monotonous, interminable cry of the collectors of old 
clothes, which respectable fraternity is almost wholly compo- 
sed of the sons of Israel. They emerge from their smoky 
burrows in the purlieus of Houndsditch, in the gray twilight 
of the morning, with a coarse bag under their arm, and give 
no rest to their feet or their throats, while there is a citizen 
out of bed. One may observe their twinkling black eyes 
peering at every window from the basement to the garret, as 
they trudge along, expecting a prize in the shape of a greasy 
hat, or a rusty pair of trowsers. In the mean time, the cease- 
less cry, — clothes, clothes — goes on, forming a kind of running 
bass to the tenor, alto, contralto, and baritono, of the hawk- 
ers of every kind of commodity, — all of which together 
make up such a concert as has not been heard since the 
tower of Babel was abandoned. Many of the Jews are fine 
looking young men, but seem not to have an idea beyond 
their paltry traffic. Surely, if they are a despised people, it 
is not without reason. 

19th. I had the pleasure a few days after of dining, with 
a small company, at the table of Sir J— r A — P — , Chief Jus- 
tice of the court of Common Pleas. Dinner conversations are 
not apt to be very interesting in detail ; but no apology can 
be necessary for putting down anecdotes, illustrative of cus- 
toms, and the characters of eminent men. Sir J. is a Scotch- 
man, who has raised himself to his present station by his 
merit alone ; a most lively, intelligent man, full of anecdote, 



ANECDOTES, &c. 65 

and as good as he is agreeable. He had an indifferent opin- 
ion of the late Bishop Watson, of whom, and Bishop Horsley, 
he related the following anecdote. Bishop W. had publish- 
ed a Tract on Confirmation, which the Committee of Bart- 
lett's Buildings recommended to be placed on the Society's 
catalogue for publication. Bishop Horsley was in the chair. 
Sir J., who was then young, but a serious man, and well in- 
formed on such subjects, opposed it strenuously ; in which he 
was seconded by a clergyman unknown to him, with so much 
effect, that the recommendation of the committee was set 
aside. Bishop II. rose, and observed, " that the circum- 
stance, that two intelligent individuals, the one a clergyman 
and the other a layman, had, without any concert, formed the 
same judgment, was conclusive with him. He, too, had 
read it, and he thought as they did." The motion was carri- 
ed against the Treatise, " Gentlemen," said the chairman, 
in his strong, coarse manner, " the noes are 40, and the ayes 
are 4 ; and thus, an extinguisher is forever put on this stink- 
ing candle." All were surprised at the boldness of the re- 
mark, and the contemptuous manner in which it Avas pro- 
nounced. 

An anecdote was related of the Lord Chancellor Thurlow. 
Y/hen the Scotch Episcopalians were applying for a tolera- 
tion, Lord Tiiurlow opposed it vehemently. He had no con- 
ception that a Bishop, in spiritualihus, could exist, without 
the king's mandate. Sir J. maintained the contrary, and 
said he had very high authorities fos'Uhis opinion. — " Who 
says they can be Bishops" 1 — " Since you ask for my author- 
ities, I will give them. They are the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, and Bishops Horsley and Home." — " I'll speak to them 
about it." The reply of the latter was, — " I'm afraid the 
Scotch Bishops are much better Bishops than myself." 

Another anecdote relating to Thurlow and Horsley is worth 
mentioning. The Lord Chancellor had determined to stop a 
bill for raising the poor stipends of the Rectors of Churches 
in London. It was late in the session, and all the bishops 
had gone to their Dioceses, except the Bishop of Salisbury, 
and Bishop Horsley ; Bishop Porteus also was present. 
6* 



66 JOURNAL. 

They were in great trepidation, and applied to Sir J . to advo* 
cate the bill in the house of Lords ; but Thurlow would hear 
no counsel. On the morning when the bill was to be called 
up, Sir J. was sent for to the robing room, to advise what they 
should do. " Do ? Why oppose Thurlow, tooth and nail. 
He's wrong and you are right ; and you understand the merits 
of the bill better than he does." Thurlow's opposition was 
always to be dreaded. He was strong, rough, and imperi- 
ous. Porteus. — " I'm growing old, and feel hardly able to 
undertake this business." Bishop of Salisbury. — " I'm at a 
loss what to do. You know I am not accustomed to this ofi"- 
hand debate." Sir J. — " Horsley why don't you take it up ?" , 
" Do you think it would do any good for me to fight the Chan- 
cellor 1" " Yes ; oppose him with all your might, and you'll 
beat him down, I'll answer for it." — " Then I'll fight him." 
He went in, unprepared as he was, and made what Sir J. pro- 
nounced one of the ablest speeches he ever heard. The 
chancellor opposed in vain ; Horsley had turned the tide 
against him. The Duke of Norfolk advocated the bill ; 
others followed on the same side, and it passed by a great 
majority. 

The account given by Sir J. of the expense of a circuit 
would be somewhat alarming to our republican judges. " The 
dinners we give to the sheriffs and members of the bar on the 
circuit, cost me and my brother judges about £700 per aun. 
each. We are obliged to travel in our own carriages, with 
abundance of footm^. ; and we have two cooks, in our train." 
The salaries of the judges are £4000 a year. They are 
attended by four or five sergeants, who differ from other law- 
yers, in their being able to plead in all courts in the kingdom, 
and have the sole right of practising in that of Common 
Pleas. No one can be elected to the bench, till he has passed 
through that degree. It was remarked, that the bar does not 
shine now as in times past. Erskine is in his dotage — Gibbs 
is gone ; and Garrow makes little figure on the bench, for 
which statioh he is ill qualified. He has great eloquence, 
but is deficient in legal knowledge : he is out of his place. 
Brougham is great without doubt, but totally unprincipled. 



BISHOP OF DURHAM. 67 

Not long since I attended divine service on a Sunday morn- 
ing at the chapel of the Magdalen Hospital, on the Surrey 
side of the river. This wa,s founded about seventy years 
ago, principally through the exertions of the unfortunate Dr. 
Dodd, as a refuge for those unfortunate females w^ho vi^ish to 
return to the bosom of virtuous society. Between four and 
five thousand have already received the benefits of tlie in- 
stitution, and the present number of inmates is about seven- 
ty. They remain here for a time on trial ; and if they give 
sufficient evidence of reformation, employment is found for 
them, and they are dismissed, with recommendations from 
the governors of the hospital. Few of them, it is said, re- 
turn to their former course of life. The collections made at 
the door of the chapel amount to about £2000 annually* 
The chapel is a neat octagonal building, capable of holding 
about nine hundred persons, and on this occasion was com- 
pletely filled. The inmates of the hospital occupy the gal- 
lery, and are shielded by a screen from the public gaze. 
The theme on which the young preacher exercised his des- 
criptive talents, was the fall of Babylon, and his sermon 
appeared to be a continuation of the same subject. It is to 
be hoped he sometimes chooses a higher argument, and tells 
his hearers of the joj^ there is in heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth. 

Having letters to the venerable Bishop of Durham, I call- 
ed one day at his house in Cavendish Square, and sent in my 
card ; and was soon after shown into his study. I found him 
busily engaged in writing letters, which he laid aside on my 
entrance. It was not difficult to recognize at once, in his 
noble features, the resemblance I had seen and admired in 
his engraved portrait ; and although he is now, as he said, 
in his ninetieth year, his stature is erect, his look command, 
ing, and his mental faculties apparently in full vigour. He 
said he was still compelled to devote a great deal of time to 
business, notwithstanding his extreme age ; but hoped he 
should be found faithful at last. Speaking of the United 
States, he adverted to the war of the revolution ; and said 
that his brother Lord Barrington, then one of the Secretaries, 



68 JOURNAL. 

wished that hostilities might be confined to the sea ; it would 
exasperate less, would spare the effusion of blood, and the 
war might terminate without the separation of the colonies. 
But finally he observed, a separation was inevitable. He 
enquired, whether the hostile feeling (he corrected the ex- 
pression : he would not call it hostile, but unfriendly) to- 
wards England, had subsided since the last war : I said, I 
thought it had ; that setting those aside, whose heads were 
heated with part}- politics, the general feeling of Americans 
towards the country of their ancestors was warm and friendly. 
He rejoiced to hear that this was the case — it could not well 
be otherwise, considering that, but a few year^ ago, we were 
one people. It was a subject of regret, that a degree of 
alienation was still kept up by the scribblers in newspapers 
and reviews, who had more influence in both countries than 
they deserved. Referring to Harvard University, he said he 
thought it was once correct in its theological views : an 
intimate and excellent friend of his, the son of a for- 
mer governor of Massachusetts Province was educated 
there — but he was now no more. I gave him a short history 
of the change of religion in that university ; which led to oth- 
er enquiries, whether the Professors weremsn of ability — 
whether they were of the clerical order — amongst what de- 
nomination of Christians Unitarianism prevailed — by whom 
their clergy were f.rdained ? &c. It was no subject i-f sur- 
prise, that those Unitarians who maintain the absolute non- 
existence of a clerical order, should quit the pulpit for other 
more congenial pursuits, when it suited their convenience. 
The Bishop spoke in high terms of the sermons of the late 
Bishop Dehon, which he had read through. They did hon- 
our to the church in America. 

Nov. 27. This morning I took a coach to Harrow-on-the- 
Hill, to pa^/ my respects to the author of the Velvet Cushion, 
for whom I had letters. The road leads away from the north- 
western angle of London through a very open country, in an 
indifferent state of cultivation, which is what one would hard- 
ly expect in the immediate vicinity of London. No village, 
aad scarcely a hamlet occurs, in the whole distance to Har; 



REV. MR. CUNiN[NGHAM. 69 

row, ten miles from the metropolis. I found Mr. Cunningham 
in his st'jdy ; and recognized, in the sprightly, piquant syle of 
his conversation, the lively author of the Velvet Cushion and 
the Proverbialist. The affliction he sustained two or three years 
ago, in the loss of a beloved wife, still Hes heavy upon him. 
He recurred to it two or three times in the course of the con- 
versation ; and it was evident, from the occasional absence of 
his manner, and the shade of melancholy on his countenance, 
that neither time, nor the consolations of religion, had done 
more than alleviate the sorrow, which will never be v/liolly ef- 
faced. I asked him if I was right in my conjecture, that the 
late Rev. John Venn of Clapham was the prototype, from 
which he drew the character of Berkeley in the Velvet Cush- 
ion ? He said I M^as. The famous school of Harrow is but 
a few rods from the parsonage ; and is now in a very flourish- 
ing state. The following anecdote is somewhat illustrative 
of the national character, as well as of a prevalent custom 
at the public schools. Mr. C. mentioned, as a proof of the 
good discipline at Harrow, that few quarrels and rencounters 
happened among the boys. To a remark that ^ye in 
America were a little disposed to wonder at the boxing 
propensities of the English, and that the custom was entirely 
discountenanced amongst us as vulgar and disgraceful ; he 
replied, that at their schools, it was impossible to get along 
without some fighting. When he first sent his son, a lad of 
ten or twelve years old, to school, he charged him to avoid 
quarrels, and to suffer any injury rather than fight. The 
boy adhered to his father's commands ; and the conse- 
quence was, that he was insulted, kicked, and treated with 
every indignity ; the boys thought him fair game — his father 
being a Metliodist, and he necessarily destitute of spirit. Ke 
at length with tears in his eyes, begged his falher to let him 
fight, or take him away from the school. Mr. C. advised 
with some of his friends ;^and it was determined that an 
engagement was necessary, as the only remedy for the evil. 
Young C. repaired to the school with great alacrity — chal- 
lenged " the proudest of his oppressors ;" and af;er a tough 
battle in which he came off victorious, v/as allowed to be a 



70 JOURNAL. 

lad of spirit, and had the ban of excommunication taken off". 
Contests of this kind are not unfrequent at the pubUc schools, 
and are all settled according to the strictest laws of the sci- 
ence. Each champion has his boUle -holder, and sits on his 
knee to recover breath between the rounds. The whole 
school forms a ring, and the parties shake hands in token of 
the absence of all malice, before a set-to. In short, it is as 
much an affair of honor as any of those settled at Bladens- 
burg or Hoboken, with the trifling abatement, that neither of 
the parties is shot through the lungs. 

Harrow is beautifully situated" on the top of a woody em- 
inence overlooking the country for a great distance round. 
The village is small but neat, and the situation retired from 
any of the great thoroughfares which lead from the metropo- 
lis into the country. There being no return coach before 
eveuiag, I finished my excursion on foot. 



CHAPTER VII. 



ST. John's chapel, Bedford row — ride to ely — ware — Cambridge 

ELY CHAPEL OF OUR LADY REMAINS OF CONVENTUAL CHURCH, &C. 

November 30. — Sunday. I went this morning to St. John's 
Chapel, Bedford Row, in the hope of hearing the Rev. Dan- 
iel Wilson — but was disappointed. The Chapel, which is a 
decent building of a moderate size, was crowded to excess, 
and the congregation apparently devout and attentive. Mr. 
Wilson's place was supplied by a young clergyman, Mr. D. 
who performed the service with great propriety, and preach- 
ed a very faithful and impressive discourse. Mr. Wilson is 
spoken of as one of the most sensible and efficient preachers 
in the metropolis — a character to which he seems justly enti- 
tled, if we judge by his volume of published sermons. They 
are distinguished more by a strain of manly reasoning, than 
by any exuberance of fancy — have more of Barrow's terse- 



RIDE TO ELY. '''I 

ness, than of Taylor's redundancy of metaphor. The lively and 
original Mr. Cecil was the predecessor of Mr. W. in the 
chapel at Bedford Row. 

Having been kindly invited by Dr. G. to pay him a visit 
at Ely, during his two months' residence there as Prebendary 
of the cathedral, I took coach on the first of December, and 
set out for that place. For the first twelve miles, the road 
may be said to pass through one continued village, the houses 
being generally small, ancient, and inelegant ; nor was the 
prospect rendered mbre cheering, by the dark and heavy 
gloom of a December atmosphere, which alternately sifted 
down a drizzling rain, or wrapped us in " the palpable ob- 
scure" of an English fog. Stoke-Newington, Stamford hill, 
Tottenham Cross, and Waltham Abbey, the latter twelve 
miles from London, were soon left behind ; and at length, 
descending into a valley, and skirting along a beautiful canal, 
which connects Ware with the metropolis, we arrived at 
Ware, twenty-one miles from the city. Ware is remarkable 
for its numerous mailt-houses, which shoot up their white, 
semi-conical tops, giving the village at a distance the ap- 
pearance of an encampment. The place, which may con- 
tain five or six thousand inhabitants, is old, and miserably 
built, with very narrow, crooked, and dirty streets. The 
canal was covered with boats, loaded with bags of malt for 
the London breweries. On leaving the village, we struck 
across an extensive, undulating common, in appearance not 
unlike the " old fields" in the southern part of the United 
States. The soil is chalky, and interspersed with nodules of 
flint, which are broken up and used in the construction of the 
roads. For many miles, a wide scene of barrenness and 
desolation was spread around ; the enlivening green hedges 
had disappeared, and the bleak blast swept across the plain 
with a vehemence, which to us outside passengers was not a 
little uncomfortable. Passing by Newell's Lodge, the seat 
of Lord Selsey, on the left, we came to Foulmere, a hamlet 
of thatched houses, whose roofs were so verdant with moss, 
that they looked like a group of hay-staks. At Trumpington, 
the sight of gowns and square caps proclaimed that we were 



"2 JOURNAL. 

drawing near to one of the grand seats of learning ; and 
soon, the pinnacles of King's College Chapel, and the nume- 
rous spires of Cambridge became visible. Changing horses 
in the suberbs, we rattled through the city with a velocity which 
allowed us only a glimpse of the Colleges and the shady 
groves on the banks of the Cam, and were soon again in an 
open, thinly populated country. Jl^hesterton and Waterbeach, 
inconsiderable villages, lay at a distance on our right, and 
Landbeach to the left. Denne)^ Abbey, once an extensive 
religious foundation, but suppressed by that unwitting instru- 
ment of the Reformation, Henry VIII., stood near the road 
we were travelling ; but scarcely a wreck of the establish- 
ment now remains. We descended to a low, oozy plain, 
through which the Ouse meanders in its way towards the sea, 
and crossed this sluggish stream a little above its junction 
with the Cam. At Streatham, the magnificent tower of Ely 
cathedral began to disclose itself through the twilight ; and on 
arriving at the hotel, 1 found the good Doctor's servant Avait- 
ing to conduct me to the Prebendal house. After dinner, 

which we took with Dr. K. , another Prebendary, in a 

very bachellor-like way, the trio separated — Dr. K. to pass 
the evening among the ladies and music ; and my host and 
myself in the way we liked best. 

Ely was one of the religious establishments founded by 
the piety or the superstition of the age of the Saxton Hep- 
tarchy. Its history when stripped of every thing fabulous, 
if so visionary a being as Jeremy Bentham is capable of re- 
cording plain matters of fact, is simply as follows : Ethel- 
dreda, the daughter of an East Anglian king, fleeing from the 
misery of a forced marriage to the consolations of religion, 
such at least as those times afforded, took refuge in the " Isle 
of Ely," and there founded a religious house, of which she 
became the first Abbess. This happened about the year 670. 
Two hundred years later, the riches of the monastery attracted 
the cupidity of the piratical Danes, who, in one of their ex- 
cursions, fell upon the unarmed monks and slaughtered them 
without mercy. A scene of plunder and dilapidation follow- 
ed, and Ely was reduced to a heap of ruins. After the in- 



ELY. 



73 



vadershad withdrawn, the secular priests repaired and occu- 
pied some of the houses ; but the restoration of the monaste- 
ry to its former splendor was reserved for Ethelwold, Bishop 
of Winchester, in the reign of king Edgar, about the year 
970. One hundred years later, the foundation of the present 
cathedral was laid, and in 1106 it was consecrated. From 
that time down to the reformation, it was constantly receiving 
additions and repairs ; and as these were executed according 
to the prevailing taste of the age, and not in conformity to the 
original plan, Ely cathedral exhibits all the varieties of archi- 
tecture, from the heavy, massive Norman, down to the light 
and florid Gothic or Arabesque. At the time of the Reforma- 
tion, Henry seized on the revenues of the monastery, turned 
the monks adrift, and put a Dean and Chapter in their place ; 
which establishment now remains. There are now attached 
to the cathedral a Dean, eight Prebendaries constituting the 
chapter, four minor canons, and the choir. One of the Pre- 
bendaries must always reside on the spot, which duty is per- 
formed in rotation. The minor canons, and the choir, con- 
sisting of from eight to ten singing boys, are required to be 
always present, for the performance of the daily service. 
The Dean and Prebendaries have each a house at Ely ; and 
derive an income, as well as the Bishop of the See, from 
large landed estates in the Isle of Ely. They meet in chapter 
two or three times in the year, for the transaction of business. 
After a night of sound repose, for aught I knew, over the 
bones of slaughtered monks, I accompaniefd"my friend to 
the cathedral to attend the morning service. On entering 
at the western porch, one is instantly arrested by the sub- 
limity of the view before him ; nor shall I soon forget the 
impression made on my mind the first time 1 passed beneath 
the roof of this " solemn temple" — one of the largest and most 
richly ornamented in the kingdom. The eye ranges between 
a double collonade of clustered columns, to a distance of more 
than five hundred feet : — three stories of short pillars, with 
corresponding Norman arches, support the roof, which seems 
to be lifted into another region. The great lantern tower, 
resting on eight clustered columns at the intersection of the 



74 JOURNAL. 

nave and the transept, discloses to the eye turned upwards, 
gromed arches springing to an immense height, but so pro- 
portioned and arranged as, notwithstanding their enormous 
dimensions, and the prodigious weight they sustain, to appear 
light, airy, and graceful. A screen, supporting the organ, 
divides the choir from the nave of the cathedral ; in the for- 
mer of which the daily service is performed. Having en- 
tered the choir and taken our seats, I had leisure to exam- 
ine more minutely the rich designs and beautiful carving of 
the screen, and the lofty, ribbed ceiling, suspended at a fear- 
ful height in the air. The elements too, conspired to height- 
en the solemnity of the place and the scene. It was a dark, 
lowering December day — the wind sighed through the arch- 
es of the temple, waving to and fro the dusty banners which 
depended from the walls — the rain pattered against the che- 
quered, fretted windows ; and nothing seemed to be wanting 
to complete the enchantment, but for the hooded monks to 
arise from their narrow cells, and assist at the matins. I felt 
that I had never been in a place, where the religio loci — the 
solemnity of the feelings called forth by external objects and 
moral associations — ^was so deeply impressed. 

After service was concluded, we took a more particular 
survey of the cathedral. The side aisles, near the choir, 
are decorated with the monuments of the illustrious dead. 
Here are the monumental statues of warriors reposing on their 
marble beds — mitred bishops, with clasped and uplifted hands 
— abbots, priors, and monks, who fell victims to the rage of 
Scandinavian pirates, a thousand years ago : and " orate pro 
anima mea" is the pious injunction laid on the passing trav- 
eller, soliciting the efficacy of his prayers for the departed 
soul. Of more than fifty bishops of Ely, thirty-five have been 
buried here ; and the names of Patrick, Fleetwood, and Tyn-, 
dall occurred, amongst others not inscribed on the roll of fame. 
The side aisles are terminated by two small chapels fifteen 
or twenty feet square, most gorgeously decorated with tra- 
cery and fret work, which look jnore like the productions of 
frost than of the chisel. 



ELY. 75 

We now passed through a beautifully wrought gate-wa)', 
opening through the side of the cathedral, into the " Chapel of 
Our Lad} ." The decorations of this chapel, the screens and 
tracery, were once in the most florid style ; and notwithstand- 
ing the ravages of time and fanatical depredation, it is still 
a most beautiful building, of perhaps 90 feet in length by 
60 in breadth. The finer decorations are cut from a sub- 
stance of about the hardness of alabaster ; and as they are 
profusely disposed about the chapel, the effect, when they 
were in perfect preservation^ must have been exquisitely 
rich. The chapel is now used as a parish church, except on 
festivals, when all the inhabitants of Ely assemble in the ca- 
thedral. The few remnants of stained glass which still adorn 
the windows of the cathedral only deepen the regret one feels 
for the sturdy intolerance of the Oliverian zealots, who deem- 
ed it an act of pious duty to demolish with hammers and with 
brick bats " the beautiful carved work of the sanctuary," lest 
it should prove an incentive to idolatry. Even the harmless, 
uncouth images, wrought in the bosses and corbels of the ar- 
chitecture, did not escape mutilation, although in situations 
apparently inaccessible. Few of them escaped without the 
loss of a nose or the fractui-e of a chin. 

Having wearied rather than satisfied my curiosity in sur- 
veying this venerable pile, 1 accompanied my guide to the 
remains of the conventual church, which existed before the 
incursion of the Danes. The carriages which now drive along 
in front of the prebendal houses, pass over the nave of the 
former church, the Saxon pillars and arches of which are 
still standing, and wrought into the walls and buildings on 
either side. The prebendal houses are, in fact, built on the 
ruins of the old conventual church ; and the builder availed 
himself of the remaining walls, as far as they could be press- 
ed into his service. We visited the Deanery, and one or 
two other houses, where there were the most abundant re- 
mains of the architecture of the Saxon Heptarchy. Long 
dark passages ; crypts, with groined ceihngs, supported by 
short, sturdy pillars ; vaulted cellars, and walls of the most 
substantial masonry enclosing the cells of the monks, occurs 



76 JOURNAL. 

red every where, affording ample scope for the lucubrations 
of the antiquarian. 

In one of the prebendal houses are shown the remains of 
" Prior Crauden's Chapel," now transmuted into a couple of 
spruce bed-rooms, nicely carpeted and whitewashed. The 
arches of the windows are most profanely intersected by a 
floor and ceiling, to add another story to the building ; and 
the chapel is divided by a partition, so that its fine decorations 
can be seen only in parts. On lifting up the edge of the car- 
pet, I found lions and griffins, and dragons and flowers, 
strangely intermingled in the mosaic pavement of the floor ; 
and the officious house-keeper triumphantly pointed our at- 
tention to " the tree of the knowledge of good and evil," en- 
twined by a serpent with a man's head, and Adam and Eve 
biting apples, in brick-work. There was formerly a covered 
way leading from a chapel to a door of the cathedral, which 
is still called " the Prior's entrance." This is a Saxon arch, 
profusely ornamented with dogs, rabbits, frogs, monkies, and 
all sort of four-footed beasts and creeping things. This Pri- 
or Crauden seems to have been a man eminent for his sane- 
tity ; and the odour of his name and good works is still fresh 
in the ecclesiastical annals of Ely. In the house of the 
Dean is a very spirited head of St. Paul, in stained glass ; 
and another of St. Etheldreda, which if it does justice to her 
ladyship, conveys no unfavourable idea of her beauty. 

After completing our survey, we went to pay our respects 
to Dr. Sparke, Bishop of Ely, at his palace near the cathe- 
dral. He is said to have owed his elevation to the Rutland 
family, in which he was once a tutor ; although he is gene- 
rally acknowledged to be a man of talents and extensive 
learning. 

The pedestrian energies of my companion being exhausted, 
I took the key of the gate, and went to examine an artificial 
eminence a little to the south of the town. When it was 
thrown up, and who toiled at the work, it is impossible now 
to decide. Tradition assigns it to the time of the Danish in- 
vasion, and it was probably erected for purposes of defence. 
From the top of this mound, I had a most commanding view of 



ELY. 



77 



the Ouse to the south, with a panorama of fens, and ditches, 
and windmills to pump up the water, and throw it within the 
dykes which confine the river. On the other side stood the 
huge bulk of the cathedral, basking in the radiance of a 
clear and glowing sun. The top of the hill is crowned by a 
neat summer-house, with a clump of trees, and a pillar of 
rather slender proportions, inscribed with the name of Jere- 
my Bentham, who wrote the annals of Ely, — qucB prosint se- 
culo posteriori. 

In the evening, we had a visit from Arch-deacon Cam- 
bridge, an elderly gentleman of excellent sense and unaffect- 
ed politeness. He is one of the most active members of the 
committee for multiplying and enlarging churches, with the 
million appropriated by parliament for that object ; an em- 
ployment; for which he is said to be eminently qualified by 
his practical knowledge of business, and taste in architec- 
ture. 

The next morning, I beheld, for the first time since leaving 
the ocean, the spectacle of the rising sun. He appeared with- 
out a cloud, emerging from the fens of Suffolk. The people 
on this side of the island, I believe, are much better acquaint- 
ed with the sun than those on the western coast, where the 
vapours of the Atlantic are first condensed. Indeed, the 
clear blue of the atmosphere in this place has more than once 
reminded me of another country ; and that, in a much strong- 
er degree than could be expected from a circumstance so 
trivial. We went again to the cathedral to attend the morn- 
ing service — the whole audience consisting of three or four 
decrepit old men, who probably find a satisfaction in daily 
resorting to "the place where prayer is wont to be made." 

Ely is a city with a population of 5 or 6,000, occupying 
a part of the brow and base of a hill, wluch emerges from a 
wide extent of marshy country, formerly much overflowed by 
the Ouse and its tributary streams. Hence, it obtained, in 
early times, the appellation of " the Isle of Ely," which it 
still bears. It forms a sort of independent principality, the 
origin of which it would be difficult to trace ;— the Bishop, 
who is " Lord of the Franches," exercises a civil iurisdic- 



78 - JOURNAL. 

tion over the Isle, which is known in no other diocese. His 
domain is nearly thirty miles in length, by a breadth some- 
what narrower. The Episcopal estates are large, and in the 
course of modern improvement, have become highly produc- 
tive. It is a peculiarity of the Ecclesiastical constitution of 
this country, that a Bishop cannot lease, or otherwise dis- 
pose of, the estate of the See, without the consent of the 
Dean and Chapter, who, in the quaint language of the law, 
are appointed " to advise him in spiritual things, and restrain 
him in temporal." As to the former, he acts pretty much 
after the counsel of his own will ; and the chapter yields to 
his wishes in regard to the latter, as a matter of course, pro- 
vided they are of a nature not to affect permanently the rev- 
enue of the See. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CAMBRIDGE PROFESSOR SMYTHE LECTURES ON MODERN HJSTORY 

FEAST OF THE AUDIT REV. CHARLES SIMEON PROFESSOR LEE. 

Having seen most that is worth seeing at Ely, and my 
venerable friend being about to return to London, we took a 
post-coach to Cambridge, where we arrived about 3 o'clock. 
We passed an hour in rambling about the quadrangles of 
the different colleges, after which he insisted on my accom- 
panying him to the lodge of the Master of Trinity, where he 
was engaged to dine. Here I was introduced to the Master, 
Dr. Wordsworth, the brother of the poet ; from whom I re- 
ceived an invitation to dinner, which I accepted, and a polite 
request to lodge at his house during my stay in Cambridge, 
which I declined. Among the guests at table were the 
Woodwardian Professor, the Hulsean Lecturer, and the 
Bursar of Trinity ; all of whom proved on acquaintance to 
be men of most polite and agreeable manners, as well as in- 
telligent and accomplished scholars. They had nothing of 
the stiffness and formality of the cloister, but the easy, frank 



CAMBRIDGE. 79 

deportment of men, who had mixed in the best society. The 
next day was to be " the Feast of the Audit," when the 
master, professors, fellows, tutors, &c. all dine together in 
the hall of Trinity ; and I was gratified with an invitation to 
be present. The Master of St. John's was so obliging as to 
procure admission for me to the Lectures of Professor Smythe 
on Modern History, the only ones which are now in a course 
of being delivered ; and the next morning, showed me the 
way to the Lecture-room. The number of students attend, 
ing the course is about forty. The Professor has the reputa- 
tion of being one of the most eloquent lecturers in the Uni- 
versity ; and as a writer of genius, and a lyric poet, he 
stands pre-eminent among the Cambridge wits. Even Lord 
Byron has honourably exempted him from the sweeping cen- 
sure he has fulminated against the bards of Granta — 
" So sunk in dulness, and so lost in shame, 
That Smythe and Hodgson scarce redeem thy fame." 

The age of Louis XVI., and the causes of the French revo- 
lution, came under the learned Professor's notice this morn- 
ing, and his manner of treating his subjects was highly phi- 
losophical. 

After the lecture, the Professor introduced himself to me, 
and entered at once into conversation, which terminated in 
an invitation to tea at his rooms. He said, the subject of the 
American war would come up to-morrow, and would be con- 
tinued to the end of the course ; and that, if I felt interested 
in knowing what an Englishman and a Whig thought of that 
event, he hoped I would come and hear him through. After 
this, I was a constant auditor at his lecture room, and was no 
less delighted with the soundness, and independence, and 
liberality of his principles, than charmed with his eloquence. 

In the discussion of his subject, he took a comprehensive 
view of the causes which led to the war. Among those 
which were creditable to the mother country, he observed, 
that it had protected the colonies against their enemies du- 
ring the infancy of their existence — that it had an undoubted 
right to frame laws and regulations for them, not inconsistent 
with civil and religious liberty, they being British subjects ; 



80 JOURNAL. 

and that resistance was adding ingratitude to rebellion. TJie 
causes, which must be reckoned discreditable to the parent 
country, were mistaken calculations of political economy — 
a mercenary disposition to derive a petty revenue from a 
young country whose trade with the parent nation already 
amounted to £2,000,000 per ann. — an over-weening national 
pride, which led the ministry to think that nothing could 
withstand the terror of the British arms ; and a narrow and 
vulgar mode of thinking on political subjects, existing in the 
ministry, as well as among the populace. He traced in his- 
torical succession the oppressive acts which paved the way 
for a separation ; and quoted largely from the writings of 
Chatham, Burke, Fox, Gov. Pownal, and the examination of 
Dr. Franklin before the house of Commons. He was partic- 
ularly severe on the vulgar policy of North and Grenville ; — 
a policy, of which the political foresight of Chatham, and 
others in the opposition, enable them to foretell the issue with 
so much certainty. He adverted, in a highly rational and 
philosophical manner, on the impossibility, that a distant 
country like this, should long remain an appendage to the 
parent state ; maintained that it must finally become inde- 
pendent ; and that the true policy in such a case was, to 
govern with mildness and equity, and endeavour to rivet by 
the bonds of affection the allegiance, which could not be se- 
cured by compulsory measures, when a colony so distant had 
begun to feel and estimate its own strength. " Why, said he, 
should a country, whose brave and hardy population was 
multiplying at an incalculable pace — a country, whose forests 
would overshadow the kingdoms and principalities of the old 
world — a country, abounding in inland seas, into which this 
whole island might be thrown and buried — a country, whose 
vi^ater-falls and cataracts would sweep our cities from their 
foundations in an instant, without leaving a mark or a monu- 
ment to tell where they stood — in comparison with whose de- 
scending seas, our mightiest rivers are but as petty rills — why 
should a country like this have its giant limbs forever mana. 
cled, by the impotent and mercenary laws of a little island, 
planted three thousand miles off in the bosom of the ocean ?" 



PROFESSOR SMYTHE. 81 

It would be difficult to find, in any of the political discus- 
sions of the American patriots of those times, a more severe 
and indignant reprobation of the measures of the Grenville, 
and other ministerial parties of that period, than that express- 
ed by the Professor. High Tor}^ principles are an abomina- 
tion in his sight. If he does not altogether approve of our 
political institutions, he is evidently struck with admiration 
at contemplating " a vast empire emerging from the shades 
of our forests." 

In commenting on the views taken, both in England and 
America, in relation to the events which led to the struggle 
for independence, he was unsparing in his censures of the 
narrovz-minded policy of Lord North, whose character as a 
statesman he estimated very low. The views expressed by 
Gibbon, in his private letters to his friends, showed him also 
to have floated along the current of vulgar opinion. Dr. 
Johnson's pamphlet on the same subject was unworthy the 
high character of the author ; — Dean Tucker's was written 
with more political ability, though he held some very incor- 
rect notions relative to American policy. The Professor ad- 
duced many quotations from Ramsay, and other American 
writers, to show the state of public feeling at this time in the 
colonies ; and commented briefly, but with much spirit, on 
the blundering conduct of the ministry in directing the opera- 
tions of the contest. " The events of the first campaign, 
said the Professor, are very soon detailed. A well-appointed 
army of 10,000 men, furnished with artillery, provisions, 
military stores, &;c., and attended by a strong naval armament, 
is sent out on the foolish errand of conquering America ; and 
the first campaign is terminated by the dreadful battle of 
Bunker's Hill, when the army has conquered — what ? Just 
as much ground as is covered by their dying and their dead." 
After all, he considered it a problem whether the chances of 
success were sufiicient to justify the American rulers in hur- 
rying the country into a war, with such inadequate means of 
carrying it on; and he thought the independence of America 
was achieved with less carnage and suffering, than they had 
any right to expect. He considered the blame of inefficient 



83 JOURNAL. 

military operations as lying between Lord Howe, and the 
Secretary Lord George Germain. He reprobated in severe 
terms the selfish and narrow policy of the American Con- 
gress towards Washington and his army. " This, he said, was 
the vice of Democrats and Democracies." Nothing surpri- 
sed him more than the calm and persevering temper of the 
hero of American independence, under all the discourage- 
ments and crosses of every kind he met with from that body. 

America is evidently a favourite subject of contemplation 
with him ; and his lessons are intended to inculcate the culti- 
vation of liberal feelings and good will towards the rising re- 
public. I thought, too, that I could discover, in the strain of 
his general remarks, a wish to prepare the minds of his pu- 
pils to look for the independence of some of the colonies now 
attached to the mother country. India has already become 
a vast empire ; and to suppose that it will always continue 
to receive its laws from a company of merchants in Leaden- 
hall street, is absurd. That a nation, great and glorious in 
arts and arms, will arise in time from the colony of convicts 
in New South Wales, is not improbable, when we recollect 
that Rome was founded by a horde of banditti. 

The lectures are attended both by graduates and under- 
graduates, whose grave and decent demeanour, and profound 
attention to their instructor, are worthy of particular notice. 
The enthusiastic expression of his Whig principles sometimes 
calls forth a smile from his auditors, but he is evidently re- 
garded by them with love and veneration. I found him as 
interesting in conversation, as he is eloquent in the lecture- 
room, and was gratified with two or three interviews with 
him at his lodgings. He wished to know whether he was 
right in his opinions relative to the war of the revolution, and 
whether they agreed with the estimate generally formed of 
it in America. He is well acquainted with our literature ; 
and justly observed, that the English works re-published in 
the United States were principally theological, and the light 
and entertaining productions of the day. He remarked, that 
Sir Walter Scott was undoubtedly the author of the Waver- 
ly Novels, although his brother John might have furnished 



FEAST OF THE AUDIT. 83 

the rough sketch of some of the earlier ones. Few men 
exhibit in conversation more traits of an ardent and accom- 
phshed mind, or deliver their opinions with more manly 
freedom, than the Professor of Modern History. 

At the proper hour, we waited on the Master of Trinity, 
and accompanied him to the College Hall, to partake of the 
" Feast of the Audit." The Professors, Fellows, Tutors, and 
Fellow-commoners, Vvcre seated around an elevated table at 
the head of the hall. A long grace in Latin was read from 
a printed tablet, by the Master and Vice-master, during which, 
the servitors were bringing in the dishes, and the conversa- 
tion went on without interruption ; and the same ceremony 
was repeated after dinner. Whatever it might be in point of 
fact, it had but little the appearance of being a religious rite, 
and the blessing must have been inaudible to most of the 
guests. The dinner, which consisted of two courses, was 
excellent, and the " college ale" deserved all the commenda- 
tion it is accustomed to receive. Two customs, said to be of 
feudal origin, may be mentioned, to show the popular regard 
for the usages of former days. After the cloth has been re- 
moved, a richly embossed silver urn, of the capacity of a 
gallon, is filled with college ale, and " Trinity College" is 
drunk from it by all the guests of the upper table, standing. 
The enormous goblet commences its journey from the Master, 
and makes its way by a zig zag course to the bottom, — each 
one pronouncing the venerated name as he wets his lips with 
the beverage. This is followed by a capacious salver of 
plate replenished with rose-water, from which each guest dips 
a spoonful into his wine-glass, and wets his fingers and lips, 
using the table-cloth for a napkin, which never appears a 
second time on the table. Another remnant of feudal times 
is the use of a large grate of charcoal in the middle of the 
hall, instead of a stove or an ordinary coal fire. While 
chimneys as yet were not, the banqueting halls of the Barons 
were warmed with a fire kindled on a hearth in the midst of 
the room, an aperture in the roof being left open for the es- 
cape of the smoke. A light, elegant lantern now encloses 
the opening in the roof, and a cast iron grate immediately 



84 JOURNAL, 

beneath supplies the place of the ancient hearth. The hall 
is decorated with portraits of Sir Isaac Newton, whom it is 
the boast of Trinity to have once enrolled among its fellows 
— of the Duke of Gloucester, the present Chancellor of the 
University, of which he was once a member ; and of many 
other worthies, ancient and modern ; but they generally hang 
in so bad a light, that their features are scarcely discernable. 
After dinner, the officers withdrew to the " combination 
room," where we found a table covered with wine, fruits, &c. 
Here it is, that these cloistered fellows and tutors enjoy the 
noctes coenseque Deorum — the pleasures of unreserved in- 
tellectual intercourse, enlivened by a moderate participation 
in the generous fruit of the vine. 1 had the pleasure of an in- 
troduction to most of the members of the faculty, and shall long 
retain a remembrance of their politeness and conversational 
powers. It would be difficult to find in any place an equal 
number of agreeable, as well as intellectual men. After 
coffee had been brought in, the company broke up, and thus 
ended the first day of " the feast of the audit." I was present on 
the two following days,by inv itation from some of the fellows ; 
but college dinners supply few topics worthy of description. 

My venerable friend Dr. G. soon left me, to return to Lon- 
don ; but the politeness of the gentlemen connected with 
the University supplied me with every facility I could wish, 
in seeing all that was worth seeing. To the attentions of 
the Rev. Messrs. Franks and Hawkes, the former the Hul- 
sean Lecturer, and the latter a Fellow of Trinity, I was par- 
ticularly indebted during my stay in Cambridge. 

The Rev. Charles Simeon, of King's College, is Avell 
known in the Christian world by his theological publications, 
and by the association of his name with that of Martyn the 
missionary, and of H. K. White, in the memoirs of those ex- 
traordinary young men. I waited on him at his apartments 
in the college, with letters from his friends in London, and 
found him in the act of taking leave of two young divines, 
who had been trained up under his care. One of them was 
about to sail for a foreign land as a missionary ; and the good 
old man was moved to tears as he gave him his parting bene- 



PROFESSOR LEE. 85 

diction, ^-fter their departure, he entered into conversation, , 
and spoke of the time as near at hand when he must cease 
from his labours. He said he pubHshed 22,000 copies of his 
" Horae Homileticse," at his own expense, which did not fall 
short of £5,000 ; and that he was now preparing a complete 
edition of his works in twenty volumes, which would be the 
last of his labours for the press. It was impossible to be 
long in his company without thinking and speaking of Mar. 
tyn, to whom he was a friend and a patron. On mentioning 
his name, he led me into his parlour, where hung a fine half- 
length portrait of that modern Paul. Mr. Simeon's venera. 
tion for his former pupil is unbounded. He has been at the 
pains to have an engraving of the portrait made, both of 
which he pronounced to be striking likenesses. I rejoiced 
his heart when I told him how well known was Martyn's 
character in America, and in what esteem it was held there. 
Two or three editions of his Memoirs had already been is- 
sued from the American press, and his volume of sermons 
had been widely circulated. At this intelligence his counte- 
nance lighted up, and he expressed himself highly gratified. 

Among those who take a leading part in the extensive 
projects of benevolence which exist in the country, Professor 
Parish is not the least active. I waited on him in company 
with Dr. G., and passed an agreeable hour at his house. 
His department is that of mechanics ; and his models of in- 
struments and machmery to illustrate the combinations of 
mechanical powers, form a very extensive collection. 

One of the most extraordinary men of the age, however, is 
Professor Lee ; whose history presents a singular instance of 
the triumph of native talent and persevering industry over 
obstacles, which would have repressed a spirit less ardent 
than his. He was brought up to the trade of a carpenter ; 
and in that humble station, by his own unaided exertions, he 
not only became master of the classical languages of anti- 
quity, but acquired a respectable knowledge of the Hebrew, 
and other oriental tongues. The first patron he found was a 
village schoolmaster, by whose interest he was promoted to 
a station in the same humble employment ; but his extraor. 
8 



W JOURNAL. 

dinary merits becoming more extensively known, he was sent 
to the University, where his progress in the languages fully 
justified the choice, which made him an object of noble pat- 
ronage. Such at least was the account given me of the first 
Oriental scholar of the age. On finishing his collegiate 
course, it was deemed an object of so much importance to 
secure the benefit of his talents to the university, that an act 
passed the Senate, and obtained the royal imprimatur, ap-"" 
pointing him Professor of Oriental Literature, before he was 
of the statutable age. He is said to be master of sixteen dif- 
ferent languages ; and if his knowledge is less extensive than 
that of the late Sir William Jones, it has the advantage of 
being more accurate and thorough. It is incredible what an 
amount of labour he contrives to accomplish. Besides su- 
perintending the studies of twenty pupils in the Oriental lan- 
guages, to whom he lectures every day, he cori'ects the press 
of the Bible Society in their editions of the Scriptures in the 
languages of the East — a herculean labour, demanding an 
accurate and critical knowledge of those tongues. All the 
tracts, pamphlets, and controversial writings, intended for the 
Arabs, Persians, &c. pass under his revision ; and his pen 
has just been employed in composing a reply to the Persian 
Doctors, in the controversy begun by Henry Martyn. This, 
he said, had proved to him a work of great difficulty ; for in 
Persian Theology, there was a vast number of technical 
terms, not to be found in the Lexicons, whose meaning must 
be sought by inspecting and comparing a great variety of 
pEissages in which they occur. 

My first introduction to Professor Lee was by Mr. Franks, 
who called with me at his rooms ; and I was also provided 
with letters to him from his friends in London. My imagina- 
tion had pictured to me a man, grave, abstracted, meditative, 
difficult perhaps of access, and impatient of having his cogi- 
tations interrupted ; but nothing could be farther from the 
reality. He received me with a cordiality which I could 
have expected only from an old acquaintance ; and began to 
turn over the proof sheets on his table to show me what he 
was about. Here lay pages of Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac„ 



PROFESSOR LEE. 87 

Persian, Hindoostanee, Orissee, and I know not what, in 
jrreat confusion, with scraps of paper inscribed all over with 
the mysterious characters of Oriental lore. Having tumbled 
over the chaotic mass on the table, he handed down from the 
shelves of his library a variety of volumes and manuscripts ; 
and in the space of a minute, I had put into my hands Mar- 
tyn's New Testament in Hindoostanee, the Scriptures in 
Chinese, copies of the Bible printed in Calcutta, in Seram- 
pore, in St. Petersburgh, with a variety of Polyglots of the 
Scriptures, and of the Book of Common Prayer. In short, I 
found myself in company with one of the most active and 
enthusiastic spirits of the age. He showed us some proof- 
sheets of Martyn's controversy with the Persian Moolahs, 
which he has translated into English, and is now publishing. 
The Persian Doctors, he observed, had more to say for them- 
selves than was generally imagined ; — they had made the 
most of their cause, and only had the misfortune to be on the 
Avrong side. It is needless to say, that in conversing on his 
favourite subjects, he displays those rare gifts which he is 
known to possess. His mind appears to grasp the whole of 
its subject in an instant, and to pursue it with a rare combi,- 
nation of judgment and enthusiasm. It is the property of such 
minds to break down obstacles or leap over them, in the pur- 
suit of their objects. At another visit, I found this walking 
Polyglot playing Scotch reels on a flute. He had just got a 
book of them and was playing it through. With all his vast 
biblical learning, and severe attention to study, he is one of 
the most cheerful men living, and has a placidity and even- 
ness of temper which nothing can disturb. On my expres- 
sing a desire to be present at one of his lectures, he readily 
assented, and mentioned the hour when he was to meet his 
class. The subject happened to be the book of Jonah, He 
took the original Hebrew, reading and translating, while the 
students followed him on the pages of their own Hebrew Bi- 
bles. He stopped to explain difficult passages, and to cor- 
rect what he considered to be mistranslations of the Septua- 
gint. He supposed the sleep of Jonah in the storm to be a 
stupor of the faculties produced by despair, and the severe 



88 JOURNAL. 

rebukes of his conscience for endeavouring to evade a special 
commandment of God — a trance, or state of lethargy, which 
is often the effect of deep and overpowering sorrow. He did 
not consider the 120,000 persons in Nineveh " who could not 
discern between their right hand and their left," as so many 
children, as some interpreters have done, and inferred from 
thence a most incredible population in the city ; but h^ 
thought it a proverbial expression to denote the heathenish 
ignorance of the adult inhabitants. Half a million was pro- 
bably the extent of the population, most of the space within 
the walls being appropriated to the support of the " much 
cattle," within the city, which was not solidly built, like the 
cities in modern times. The lecture was highly interesting ; 
and the students present exhibited, by the pertinency of their 
questions and remarks, no small share of acuteness and profi- 
ciency in Biblical learning. 



CHAPTER IX. 



CAMBRIDGE LIBRARIES UNION SOCIETY SUNDAY CATHERINE HALL 

GOVERNMENT OF THE UNIVERSITY DESCRIPTION OF CAMBRIDGE 

king's COLLEGE CHAPEL ANCIENT TOWER OBSERVATORY HOB- 
SON. 

Each of the colleges in the University has its own library, 
and some of them are very extensive and valuable. One of 
the gentlemen, to whose polite attentions I was much indebt- 
ed, took me to the library of Trinity. This is one of the 
largest, and occupies a long, lofty room, extending along 
the whole of one side of the quadrangle. The books are 
ranged in stalls on each side of the hall, which is ornament- 
ed with busts in marble of Sir Isaac Newton, Bacon, and 
others, by Roubilliac. That of Ray, the author of the work 
on creation, is by the same accomplished artist. One ex- 
tremity of the room is terminated by a painted window, in 



CAMBRIDGE. 



89 



which Newton, Bacon, and George III. by a most unaccount- 
able anachronism, are made cotemporaries, and grouped in 
the same picture. Among other curiosities, I observed a 
couple of mummies brought from Egypt, I believe by Bel- 
zoni ; one of which was denuded of its wrappings, and ex- 
hibited a most disgusting spectacle of what the mortal frame 
of man must come to, even when art has done its best to pre^ 
serve it. The flesh was shrunk to nothing, and the dried and 
blackened skin lay in wrinkles on the bones. The woolly 
hair was still perfect ; but the visage — no one feature of 
" the human face divine" was left in its proper place. The 
black skin was plaited in a thousand wrinkles, and the lips 
were drawn into a diagonal line with the face, disclosing a 
set of irregular yellow teeth. It was altogether a revolting 
sight. 

In one of my rambles I looked into the senate house, where 
the Vice Chancellor was conferring the degree of Doctor of 
Laws on two candidates. The ceremony would have been 
impressive, but for the disturbance produced by the specta- 
tors walking up and down the pavement, and conversing all 
the time. This is a magnificent room, of Grecian architec- 
ture, capable of comaining four or five hundred persons, with 
a marble floor in Mosaic. It is decorated with noble statues 
of George the first and second, a fine one of Pitt, and anoth- 
er of a nobleman, whose name I do not remember. 

Mr. F. honoured me with an invitation to dinner at his 
rooms, where I found twelve or fourteen fellows and tutors of 
the different colleges assembled. The dinner, although in a 
bachelor's room, and within the walls of a college, was un- 
commonly good, and the evening passed away most agreea- 
bly. A great proportion of the guests were clergymen. 
Professor Lee brought all his good humour to enliven the 
party : it is impossible not to love him for his singleness of 
heart, and the unsophisticated benevolence of his disposition. 
One of the guests was very difficult to be persuaded, that 
we had no occassion for Arch-bishops in our republic, and 
thought it singular that our Bishops were not addressed by 

the title of my Lord. 

8* 



90 JOURNAL. 

On the following morning I breakfasted with Mr. Robinson, 
a tutor of St. John's, and went to view the library of that Col- 
lege. A portrait of Bishop Middleton hanging in his study, 
led to some conversation relative to that extraordinary 
man, who I learned had been the intimate friend of Mr. R. 
He said he was one of the most agreeable of companions, 
as well as a brilliant and accomplished scholar and divine. 
He had formerly been of St. John's, where his memory is 
still cherished with no common regard ; and the loss which 
the Anglo-Indian church has sustained by his early death, 
will not be easily repaired. 

We could devote but little time to the library, Mr. R. be- 
ing called away soon to attend the examination which was 
then taking place. Twenty-four thousand volumes arranged 
in stalls around the room make a goodly show ; and it is a 
circumstance worthy of being borne in mind by the patrons 
of literature and science in our young republic, that the no- 
ble libraries which are the pride and boast of the English 
Universities, have been principally made up hy the donations 
of private individuals. 

Wishing to avail myself of every opportunity to gain infor- 
mation respecting the Cantabs, I accepted an invitation to at- 
tend the debates of the " Union Society," an association of 
the members of the University for the discussion of literary 
subjects. Were I to judge solely by the specimen of their 
proceedings this evening, nothing could be more inappropri- 
ate than the title assumed by the club ; for a scene of great- 
er turbulence and confusion I have rarely witnessed. It ap- 
peared in the course of the debates, and from the intelligence 
furnished by the member who introduced me, that an aristo- 
cratical minority, consisting partly of young noblemen and 
gentlemen commoners, had attempted by various arts to con- 
troulthe proceedings of the Society ; — that the plot had been 
discovered and exposed by the ministerial party ; — that the outs 
had offered two or three remonstrances against certain pro- 
ceedings ; and that another had been presented at the last 
meeting, severely censuring the conduct of the President, Mr. 
R. , on a late occasion. The acceptance or rejection of this re- 



UNION SOCIETY. 91 

monstrance formed the subject of debate. Mr. Secretary 
P — d seemed to be the leader of the opposition, while the min- 
isterial party was supported by H — d, a speaker of uncommon 
vehemence. The President having absented himself from 
motives of delicacy, the Secretary assumed the chair as a 
matter of right. This was opposed by H — d, " who had cer- 
tain questions which he wished to put to the hanourable gen- 
tleman ;" and the chair was at length filled by a son of Sir 
Richard Steele. After some desultory, and rather inflamma- 
tory conversation, the debate on the acceptance of the remon- 
strance was opened by Mr. T — n, who spoke with a good 
deal of pith — quoted old ballads and scraps of poetry with 
a very happy effect, and went on for a quarter of an hour 
in a strain of irony which kept the house in a roar of laugh- 
ter. H — d followed him, but with far less command of tern- 
per. His action was violent in the extreme ; his remarks 
were inflammatory and personal ; the usually cautious Sec- 
retary was for a moment thrown off" his guard, and made 
some observations which he was immediately obliged to re- 
tract. A nephew of Lord Clarendon followed on the side 
of the opposition ; and although his manner was ungraceful 
and embarrassed, his remarks were pertinent and pithy when 
he had recovered his self possession. Others followed on 
the ministerial side ; to all of whom, the secretary, who had 
been entrusted with the defence of the cause of the remon- 
strants, replied in a most rapid speech. This young man 
is reckoned the most eloquent member of the University ; but 
his excited feelings, and the shortness of the time allotted to 
each speaker, rendered his manner hurried and his enuncia- 
tion too rapid. His ideas and expressions burst from him in 
a torrent ; and although he had a great variety of objections 
and insinuations to answer,*liis rnemory supplied him with 
every thing, and he was never for a moment at a loss. The 
debate resulted in the complete discomfiture of the aristoc- 
ratical party, as their remonstrance was lost by a majority of 
130 to 62. I never witnessed a scene more turbulent, although 
every thing was conducted according to parliamentary pre- 
scription. Cries of " hear, h^ar — order — chair — chair — 



92 JOURNAL. 

tired — yes — no — sit down," &c. after the fashion in St. 
Stephen's, were heardj over the hall ; the members scra- 
ped, coughed, applauded, and hissed ; the room, in short, was 
in a perpetual uproar. Still, they addressed each other as 
" honorable gentlemen — my honourable and learned friend," 
and "the noble Lord last up." I have heard far worse speech- 
es in the Hall of Representatives at Washington, than I have 
heard to-night from the gownsmen of the Union Society. 
Some of the speeches abounded in the keen and delicate 
strokes of irony, 

" The tart reply, 
" The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, 

which are admired in the popular harangues in the British 
parliament. I was indeed surprized at the readiness and self, 
possession of the speakers, no less than at the nice and difficult 
tact which teaches an orator how far he may go in personal 
allusion and insinuation, without subjecting himself to the ne- 
cessity of an explanation. It was past midnight when the 
club adjourned, the popular party no doubt highly gratified 
by a result, which ascertained the solidity of their power. 

An evening which I passed at the chambers of the phila- 
sophical Society supplied far less matter of amusing recrea- 
tion. The reading of a long, tedious paper on fluxions, aid- 
ed by the operation of the good Port of the combination, 
room, disposed the members to a very quiescent and dreamy 
state, in which it was not difficult to decide, whether the nods 
were tokens of assent to the accuracy of the calculations, or 
of an involuntary homage to the peaceful god. Some new 
members were elected, by each member's thrusting his afra 
into a box, and depositing a bean on the yes or no side. Pro- 
fessor Cummings exhibited a pleasing experiment of the spon- 
taneous combustion of a stream of hydrogen, directed on fine- 
ly granulated platina. He explained the phenomenon, by 
supposing that the platina absorbed and condensed the gas 
in great quantities, and that the latent heat given out ignited 
the metal, whence the stream of hydrogen took fire. The 
discovery was lately made by a German chemist. 

During my stay in Cambridge, I frequently attended mom- 



SUNDAY. 93 

ing and evening prayers in the various chapels, but most fre- 
quently in that of King's College, where the full Cathedral 
service is performed. The journal of a Sunday in Cam- 
bridge may not be uninteresting. Putting myself under the 
guidance of Mr. F., who is about to leave the university for 
Huddersfield, of which he has lately been made vicar, I 
went at half past nine to the morning service in King's Col- 
lege Chapel. The choir here consists of about twelve, eight 
of whom are boys under fourteen or fifteen years of age. 
They are ranged on opposite sides of the chapel, and chant 
the verses of the psalms alternately, except in the Gloria 
Patri, which is chanted by the whole in chorus. The chant- 
ing however is too rapid to produce a solemn effect, an error 
which appears to proceed from the length of the service. 
At the conclusion of the litany, an anthem from the lighter 
compositions of Boyce, Tallis, Clarke, or some other standard 
composer, is performed in a style eminently beautiful and 
impressive. King's College and Eton School constitute but 
one foundation ; and as the students are all Eton boys, they 
are necessarily few in number. As they all appear on Sun- 
day in white surplices worn over their college dress, the ef- 
fect is highly pleasing and impressive. 

Prayers being over, we went, at eleven, to St. Mary's, 
the University church, where the heads of all the colleges 
usually attend, and those students who do not prefer going 
to the other churches. Here are no morning prayers, they 
having been already performed at the different chapels. 
The discourse by Mr. G. was barely respectable. So learn- 
ed an audience as that which assembles on a Sunday morn- 
ing at St. Mary's, consisting of almost all the officers in the 
University, is no where to be paralleled, except in a seat of 
literature and science. 

From St. Mary's we went a little before twelve to Trinity 
Chapel, the parish Church of the Rev. Mr. Simeon. The 
service was just over, and the church was crowded to excess. 
Mr. Simeon occupied his own pulpit, and delivered his dis- 
course from short notes. Extemporaneous sermonizing, 
however, is not his forte. He wants fluency of utterance ; 



94 JOURNAL. 

and although his divisions were judicious, his remarks under 
each head were too much of the nature of detached sentences. 
In his written sermons before the University, I am told that 
he avoids those peculiarities of diction, which in his extempo- 
raneous preaching, appear too coarse and familiar. In his 
delivery, he has a great deal of action, Avhich is rather un- 
graceful and embarrassed ; but he is much in earnest, has 
many striking and eloquent passages, and has been eminently 
successful in elevating the tone of piety in the University. 

Sermon being over, I took a hasty dinner with my com- 
panion at his rooms, and went at three to attend the afternoon 
service at the King's Chapel ; and at six to the Chapel of 
Trinity, where I saw four hundred young men ranged along 
the seats, all dressed in their white surplices. On Sundays, 
and on all religious festivals, this is the dress of the whole 
University ; and the effect of such an assemblage is most 
striking. We had the Cathedral service here as in the 
King's Chapel, but the number of singing boys was fewer. 
We passed the evening at the house of a gentleman in town, 
■whose lady, a most intelligent and agreeable woman, is the 
daughter of an Irish Bishop. Here we met Professor Lee, 
and two or three young clergymen, about to depart to take 
charge of their parishes. It is needless to add, that in such 
company, enlivened by the presence of the accomplished 
daughters of Mrs. L., the evening passed away most 
agreeably. 

Mr. Scholefield, the Rector of a parish in Cambridge, 
and a fellow of Trinity, is reckoned one of the most eloquent 
and evangelical preachers of the University. I heard him 
on a following Sunday at St. Mary's, and heard him with 
pleasure. Before any other audience than the one he was 
addressing, his style might be thought too chastened and re- 
fined to be very impressive. As a parish clergyman, I am 
told that he is eminently useful. 

I accepted an invitation one day to dine in Catharine Hall. 
Mr. Corrie, to whose politeness I was indebted for this mark 
of attention, is a Tutor in this College, and brother to the 
Senior Chaplain of the East India Company, whose name is 



UNIVERSITY. 95 

So frequently and honourably mentioned in the biography of 
Henry Martyn. Our company at table consisted of the Vice- 
master, H — d the fiery orator of the Union club, a young 
baronet and fellow of Trinity, with two or three fellows of 
Catharine. We adjourned, as usual to the combination room, 
where we passed an hour in agreeable conversaiion. Catha- 
rine Hall is one of the smaller foundations, and contains but 
few students ; indeed, Trinity and St. John's have nearly as 
many as all the rest. After prayers, I went to drink tea with 
Professor Smythe, with whom I am more and more delighted. 
He spoke of Gen. Washington as " the first of the rulers of 
men." Here I met P — d, the champion of the expiring aris- 
tocracy of the Union club. He said he had shaken hands 
with his antagonist, and that they had buried their animosities 
in oblivion. 

After various attempts to obtain exact information concern- 
ing the interior economy of the different colleges, I was 
obliged to be satisfied with only a very partial degree of 
success. Few of the officers appeared to be acquainted with 
any system except that of their own college ; at least to a 
degree sufficient to enable them to satisfy my enquiries. 
The University is, indeed, a collection of colleges, each of 
which forms a separate principality, independent of all the 
rest in matters relating to internal organization and govern- 
ment ; and as the usages are as various as the number of 
separate foundations, it is not surprising that I could obtain 
from no one individual the information I desired. Were most 
of the Colleges in the United States to be brought together in 
one place, and the diflferent presidents, professors, &;c. to as- 
semble at stated times, to consult the good of the whole, 
while each institution was left as it now is to make its own 
internal regulations, this loosely federated literary republic 
would bear a stronger resemblance to one of the English 
Universities than any one institution amongst us. Still, there 
would be many striking points of difference. The whole city 
of Cambridge is under the duiZ jurisdiction of the University, 
which has its courts and judges, to which all the inhabitants 
are amenable, and whose power is suflSlciently extensive to 



96 JOURi\AL. 

protect the interests, and secure the well being of the Uni- 
versity. In no other way would it be possible to maintain 
order in a body of nearly 2,000 young men, brought together 
in one spot, and removed from the eye of parental control. 

The students are a race of fine looking young men. One 
may observe amongst them the fresh and ruddy complexions, 
tall forms, and muscular limbs, which appear in the healthiest 
parts of New-England. It is a remark of that sensible trav- 
eller, Simond, that the officers of the English army are men 
of better stature than the common soldiers ; which he ac- 
counts for by the fact, that the former, being for the most 
part men of family and fortune, have been subjected in their 
childhood to none of the hardships and privations which are 
known to check the human growth. The same remark ap- 
plies with equal force to the great body of the students, who, 
with few exceptions, are taken from the superior classes of 
society. Yet it is not difficult to find here and there a youth, 
whose ruddy complexion has faded away during his vigils 
over the midnight lamp ; and I was gravely informed by a 
plethoric, pursy Vice-master, as he sipped his glass of Port, 
that dispepsia had found its way into their halls and cloisters. 

In former years, the mathematics have been held in higher 
repute at Cambridge than at the sister University. Before 
the election of Professor Lee, little comparatively had been 
done in classical learning ; and Oriental literature had been 
still more neglected. An important revolution has already 
taken place in favour of classical studies, which are now 
pursued with an ardor that every day diminishes something of 
the distance between Cambridge and Oxford, in the conten- 
tion for superiority in elegant literature. 

We have the most delightful weather imaginable. With 
the exception of now and then a drizzling day, and occasion- 
ally a blustering one, like some of our November days, the 
sky is serene, and the air of an agreeable temperature. The 
season is uncommonly fine for England. It is now almost 
the middle of December, but not a flake of snow has appear- 
ed — the fields still look green, although the trees have shed 
their foliage ; and I could easily imagine myself enjoying a 



CAMBRIDGE. 



97 



ramble in America on one of our fine mornings in October, 
were I not reminded by the hedges, antique buildings, and 
distant Gothic turrets which bristle over the city, that I am 
" a stranger and a sojourner" here. 

Cambridge stands on a plain bounded by hills of a very 
moderate elevation, except on the northern side, where it 
gradually slopes into the flat and fenny ground, along which 
the sluggish Ouse meanders in its way towards the sea. 
The streets of the old town, where most of the colleges are 
situated, are narrow, crooked, and dirty, and the houses 
generally old and decaying. On the eastern side, some 
streets have been added in a style of English neatness and 
comfort. The population may amount to 12,000. All the 
parish churches are of an ancient date ; and having been 
enlarged and repaired at different times, without much atten- 
tion to uniformity of style, their appearance is often strange- 
ly grotesque. 

The Cam, which winds along the North-western border of 
the city, would be a very pleasing object, had it not expe- 
rienced the usual fate of English rivers — that of being trim- 
med, and straitened into a canal. So much has our imagina- 
tion been carried away by poetical allusions to this classic 
stream— by the songs of bards and the declamations of ora- 
tors, that its name suggests nothing but images of rural retire- 
ment and hallowed meditation — shady walks, where the still- 
ness is broken only by the rippling of the waters, and the soft 
tread of the solitary musing student. How then are we dis- 
appointed, when we find, in the place of this fair creation 
of the fancy, a narrow, muddy canal, spanned by half a dozen 
bridges, dammed up with locks, and defiled by coal-barges ? 
Such is the reality. Nevertheless, a care-worn student 
could scarcely desire a more inviting retreat, than the elnb. 
groves and gravelled walks, which extend along both banks 
of the river in the rear of Trinity, Clare Hall, and St. John's. 
These grounds communicate with the above mentioned col- 
leges by many an arched stone bridge ; and are secured from 
vulgar intrusion by thick hedges and borders of trees. The 
colleges themselves are seen to the best advantage from this 



y» JOURNAL. 

quarter, where all the glories of Kmg's College Chapel stand 
revealed. 

Among all the buildings of the University, none can pre- 
tend to vie with this. Its extreme length, and tall form tower- 
ing above all the surrounding buildings — its projecting but- 
tresses and pinnacled roof- — its gorgeous windows and endless 
carving within and without, not to mention the vaulted ceiling 
of solid mason Avork, Avhose construction is yet a mystery to 
modern architects — all these have been so often described 
that a repetition is needless. I paced its length, which on 
two trials I made to be upwards of 300 feet ; while its breadth 
at the base cannot exceed 90, and that of the clere-story, 60. 
Its extreme length is the more striking to the eye, because it 
is unbroken by a transept, after the fashion of the cathedrals. 
I entered it one evening during the performance of the ser- 
vice. The sun was going down ; a deep and solemn gloom 
filled the building, heightened by the distant swell of the 
choral service ; a ttiousand rich and mellow tints were thrown 
on the eastern v.'all, from the setting sun streaming through 
the opposite windows, and the whole appeared like a scene 
of enchantmeiit. The effect is best obtained, by the spec- 
tator's placing himself near the chancel at the eastern end, 
whence he has before him a room 300 feet in length, un- 
broken through the whole extent, save by the screen about 
twelve feet high, which divides off the choir. Along a double 
row of seats on either hand, he sees the white-robed students 
and chanters, all arrayed in their surplices, with a line of 
lights burning before them. Casting his eyes upwards, he 
discovers a vaulted and groined ceiling, adorned with carving 
and tracery of the richest kind ; while the lofty windows in 
the sides are stained with the figures of gorgeous temples, 
landscapes, and groups of apostles and mart)'rs kneeling in 
prayer, or " suffering for righteousness sake." Then, the 
organ, one of the finest that can be conceived, rolls its deep 
mellow tones, the echoes of which are prolonged long after 
the sound has ceased. Often, when placed in the situation 
I have described, has the well-known passage of Milton been 



IMPROVEMENTS. ■ »« 

brought to mind, and with a force and beauty which canmot 
be felt without the aid of a little experience. — 

" But let my duo feet never fail 

To walk the studious cloysters pale, 

And love the high embowed roof, 

W ith antic pillars, massy proof ; 

And storied windows, richly dight, 

Casting a dim, religious light. 

There let the pealing organ blow 

To the full-voiced choir below, 

In service high, and anthems clear, 

As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 

Dissolve me into ecstacies. 

And bring all heav'n before mine eyes." 

Such lines as these could have been indited only by one, who 
had an ear and a soul to enter into the sublimities of cathe- 
dral music ; and such were Milton's, notwithstanding his an- 
ti-episcopal prejudices. 

The sound of the axe and the hammer is heard in the pre- 
cincts of the University. Trinity, Pembroke, and Downing, 
with some others, are either undergoing extensive repairs, or 
receiving large additions, which will give quite a ne^ aspect 
to the city. The stone in use is the Bath, Portland, and Kat- 
ton — all of them a species of sandstone, differing only in 
colour and various degrees of hardness. A dirty white with 
a yellowish tinge is the prevalent colour, and the material is 
wrought with as much ease as wood, and with similar instrur 
ments. Did it not harden by exposure to the air, it would 
scarcely be fit for building. In some of the old collegiate 
structures, Gothic and Grecian are strangely jumbled togeth- 
er ; but all the new buildings are constructed with a view to 
uniformity. 

The rooks and crows in this country are privileged birds, 
and great frequenters of seats of learning. They never 
seem so happy as when they are skimming around old steeples 
and towers, or holding a grand council in the top of a neigh- 
bouring elm. One of their favourite resting places is on the 
•s^^ane of old St. Bennet's, in front of my hotel, 



100 



JOURNAL. 



" Where, bishop-like, they find a perch, 
" And dormitory too." 

Walking in the groves of elms, whose tops are quite black- 
ened by their nests, one sees them perpetually wheeling about 
in the upper regions ; while even at this late season of the 
year, the bulfinch warbles his notes from the thickets with 
which the walks are planted. 

Cambridge is not wholly without its antiquities. About a 
quarter of a mile to the north of the city are the remains of 
a low, square tower, which tradition assigns to William of 
of Normandy. Hard by is an artificial mound of forty or 
fifty feet elevation, encompassed by a deep moat and em- 
bankment with salient and re-entering angles, indicating that 
the work was constructed for the purpose of defence. 

The new Observatory having been mentioned as worthy of 
a visit, I included it in one of my rambles on a fine frosty 
morning. It stands on a gentle eminence about a mile to the 
north of the town. It is a low, Doric building, of free stone, 
with a centre and wings, the roof being crowned by a dome 
so constructed as to revolve, and present the instruments of 
observation to any quarter of the heavens. A part of the 
dome is of course made to open and shut at pleasure ; but 
the building is yet in an unfinished state. The view from the 
top is most delightful. Cambridge, bristling with turrets, 
lies immediately beneath ; while the adjacent plain, dotted 
with hamlets and churches, solicits the eye to scenes more 
and more distant, till all 

" The stretching landscape into smoke decays." 

Every body has heard of " Hobson's choice." Mr. Hob- 
son was no imaginary character ; but a real, substantial citi- 
zen of Cambridge, who kept a livery stable, and obliged 
each customer to take the horse next the door. Now, when 
he was about to die, he bequeathed a sum of money, to be ex- 
pended in the construction of an aqueduct and fountain in 
the market-place, for the public good ; and the water now 
spouts forth from a little Gothic stone tower, in memory of 
the public spirited Mr. Hobson. Instead of the common- 



RIDE TO LEICESTER. 101 

place, matter-of-fact inscription, however, which commemo- 
rates the charitable donation, one could wish to see, — 

" Drink, weary pilgrim, drink and pray 

" For the kind soul," &c. 
or something equally sentimental engraved on the tablet. 



CHAPTER IX. 



DEPARTURE FROM CAMBRIDGE HUNTINGDON BURLEIGH HOUSE LEI- 
CESTER — ROTHLY TEMPLE CARDINAL WOLSEY RIDE TO LUTTER- 
WORTH — COTESBATCH WICKLIFF RUGBY. 

After a most agreeable sojourn of a fortnight in Cambridge, 
I left it, if not with absolute regret, yet with a lively and'grat- 
fying recollection of the polite attentions I had experienced 
there. I had accomplished a wish long and ardently enter- 
tained. I had seen the interior of one of the great English 
Universities, and under circumstances highly favourable for 
making observations — had become acquainted with some of 
the learned and the excellent, whose names are dear to the 
scholar and the Christian, and my veneration for their char- 
acters had been rather increased than diminished, by study- 
ing them more nearly. 

We were called up two hours before sunrise to take our 
seats on the perilous elevation of the top of an English coach, 
with a ponderous load of baggage piled much higher than 
our heads. While they were craning up the ti'unks, a self- 
tormenting curiosity induced me to measure the distance be- 
tween the wheels, which I found to be about four feet and 
four inches — the height of the load being not less than 
twelve or thirteen feet. Here then was a weight of some- 
thing more than a ton at least ten feet from the ground, 
resting on a base of 4 feet and 4 inches, to be whirled along 
at the rate of nine miles an hour. Comfortable idea to those 
who are eeatecf' on the top ! But as there is no remedy, the 
traveller usually finds it best to shut his eyes, if he can, to 
9* 



1<>2 JOURNAL. 

the danger of upsetting, and encounter blindfold the chance 
of descending by a parabolic curve into a ditch, and being 
buried under a pile of trunks. The inside passengers were 
ascertained to be a lady, a gentleman, two pointers and a 
setter ; while my outside companions were for the most part 
students, going home to pass the vacation, and a sporting 
young baronet. The Cantabs entertained us with stories of 
Cambridge rows, and poaching expeditions on Trumpington 
manor — interlarded with a superfluity of fashionable oaths. 
One was particularly eloquent in setting forth how he had 
lamed himself the night before, by tumbling down on the 
pavement in a drunken frolic ; but having exhausted the wor- 
thy theme, he was silent. 

A ride of fourteen or fiteen miles over a bleak plain brought 
us to the Ouse, a sleepy, stagnant stream, which we crossed 
by a stone bridge, and entered Huntingdon, the birth-place of 
the protector Cromwell. Here we snatched a hasty break- 
fast at a scurvy inn, amidst a great confusion of hats, cloaks, 
umbrellas, fowling-pieces and pointers. Such cutting and 
slashing at a huge round of beef, and swearing, and blow- 
ing of fingers, and bawling for waiters who were out of 
hearing, and clamours of the coachman, " coach ready," and 
twanging of horns ! Indeed the breakfasting of such a coach 
party as ours is no very orderly matter. Huntingdon was once 
a flourishing and populous place, containing fifteen church- 
es, which are now reduced to two. 

Leaving Peterboro' on our right, and passing through Stil- 
ton, a little hamlet of cheese-making memory, and Wands- 
ford on the Nen, a beautiful stream tributary to the Wash, 
we came in sight of Burleigh House, the seat of the present 
Marquis of Exeter, whose fondness for the iwr/" is well known 
to the jockies of Newcastle. Burleigh House was the resi- 
dence of the famous Treasurer Burleigh, in the reign of 
Queen Elizabeth. It is a turreted old mansion almost buried 
in the thick trees of the park. A herd of four or five hundred 
small fallow deer were lazily chewing the cud, or grazing in 
the park ; a number of hares were chasing each other in sport 
across the adjoining fields, and covies of partridges waddled 



ROTHLY TEMPLE. 103 

about in the stubble, safe under the protection of the game 
laws. Crossing the Welland river, was entered Stamford, a 
city with a population of about 40,000. It stands on the side 
of a hill sloping towards the river ; the houses are generally 
old, and the streets narrow, irregular, and dirty. About 
seven in the evening we arrived at Leicester, and were soon 
huddled around a most inviting coal fire, which glowed in the 
traveller's room in the " Stag and Pheasant" — a luxury pe. 
culiarly grateful, after facing all day the chilling blasts of De- 
cember. 

I had become acquainted, while in London, with Mr. Bab- 
ington of Leicester, a gentleman not less distinguished for 
the urbanity of his manners, than for the Christian benevo- 
lence with which he lends his support to the cause of relig- 
ion and humanity. On the following morning I waited on 
him at his banking-house, and received an invitation to Roth- 
ly Temple, his residence about five miles from the city. I 
accordingly put myself in a Nottingham coach, and after a 
race of a few minutes, was set down at the lodge opening 
into a private road. A walk of a mile led me over a gentle 
eminence overlooking a spacious valley, at the upper end 
of which stood the mansion, in a large park, dotted here and 
there with trees. The rural beauty of the spot was improv- 
ed by a small stream winding through the grounds, overhung 
with oaks and elms, and broken by waterfalls ; and the ap- 
pearance of a hamlet or two at no great distance, with their 
antique, grotesque churches, relieved the air of entire soli- 
tude which the place would have otherwise possessed. 

Rothly Temple is a large, irregular pile, whose erection 
is attributed to the Knights Templars in the days of their 
power. The high sharp roofs and thick walls, indicate the 
great antiquity of the structure. The chapel, with its Goth, 
ic chancel and window, and cross on the roof, is still entire. 
Here, Richard IIL is reported to have slept a night or two 
before the battle of Bosworth ; and the bedstead on which 
the unfortunate monarch reposed is still preserved. It is of 
the most richly carved oak, and panelled over head like the 
fretted ceiling of a Gothic room. The posts and beams are 



104 JOURNAL. 

of massy thickness, and the whole may weigh something less 
than half a ton. In the family of Mr. B. I experienced the 
kindest hospitality, and the evening could not have passed 
away more agreeably. The company, the next morning, 
was increased by the arrival of a neighbouring clergyman ; 
and after breakfast, we all set out for Leicester, where a 
meeting had been appointed to form an Auxiliary Society for 
the gradual abolition of slavery. The meeting was held in 
the Bible Society's room, Mr. B. being in the chair ; and 
was attended by a number of the most respectable inhabit- 
ants in the place, besides two or three radicals, who seemed 
to have come for no other purpose than to see that the busi- 
ness was not transacted with too much unity. The associa- 
tion was nevertheless organized, and most of the gentlemen 
present became members. I could not but admire the terse- 
ness and propriety with which the speakers delivered their 
sentiments, and particularly the chairman, who is a concise 
and business-like speaker. His son very appropriately in- 
troduced the subject, by a statement of the reasons which 
went to prove the expediency of venturing on measures of 
gradual abolition, and the necessity of influencing members 
of parliament by petitions from the country. 

After the meeting had broken up, Mr. B. kindly introdu- 
ced me to one of the Elders of Robert Hall's congregation, on 
whom I waited in the evening to accompany him to the lec- 
tui'e. A torrent of rain did not prevent us from setting off 
after tea for the chapel, a very moderately sized building sit- 
uated in a narrow alley. My disappointment was great on 
discovering that Mr. H. was prevented by indisposition from 
giving his lecture ; and I found an additional moi'tification in 
not being able to wait on him after service, as my host had 
politely offered to introduce me. The storm was too violent 
to allow of paying visits of ceremony. On returning to my 
hotel, I found the coffee-room occupied by a luckless com- 
pany of Cantabs, who had been fanned and soaked by the 
tempest through the whole day on the top of the coach. 

Leicester has a population of 30, or 40,000, and is famous 
for its manufactures of hose, eighteen thousand pair being 



LEICESTER. 105 

woven here every week. Tradition assigns the foundation 
of the city to King Leir, I know not how many hundred years 
before the Norman conquest. It stands on what was once 
the river Soare, now transmuted into a canal, whose banks 
are blackened by iron foundaries, glass manufactories, and 
sea-coal. Among the antiquities of the place is shown a Ro- 
man mile-stone, a low obelisk standing on a pedestal in one 
of the public places. 

On a little eminence to the northward of the town are the 
ruins of Leicester Abbey, where the disgraced Cardinal Wol- 
sey " gave his honours to the world again, — and slept in 
peace." The readers of Shakspeare will not need to be re- 
minded of the passage, which describes with historical accu- 
racy the closing scene of his chequered life, 

" At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester ; 
Lodg'd in the Abbey ; where the rev'rend Abbot, 
With all his convent, honorably received him ; 
To whom he gave these words, — O, Father Abbot ! 
An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye — 
Give him a little earth for charity." 

The place that once knew this haughty favorite of the ab- 
solute Henry, knows him no more — the site of his tomb is 
forgotten — " his memorial has perished with him ;" and noth- 
ing of the hospitable Abbey remains but a mound of ruins, 
a piece of thick wall, and two or three arches ready to tum- 
ble down. 

One object of my visit in this part of England was, to wait 
on the Rev. Mr. Marriott, the Rector of Cotesbatch near 
Lutterworth, at whose house I had been very politely invited 
to pass a few days. There being no stage-coach direct to 
Lutterworth, I hired a post-coach, and set off on the morning 
of the iSth, and for once enjoyed the luxury of travelling 
alone, and in comparative security. The day was fine on 
setting out, but in the course of an hour or two, it was rain- 
ing and snowing together. The Soar, with its formal daugh- 
ter the canal, ran along on my right ; but for some miles, 
both were merged in one continued lake, produced by the 



106 JOURNAL. 

rains of yesterday. A ride of thirteen miles brought mc in 
sight of the tower of Lutterworth church, which peered above 
the trees on a gentle eminence. On my arrival, 1 learned 
that the gentleman whom I was to visit was then holding a 
magistrate's meeting in the village ; and on sending in my 
cai-d, I was admitted into the hall of justice. Among those 
who were giving an account of their evil deeds, were a 
choleric boor, who had kept back the wages of a labourer ; 
and one of the frail sisterhood, who had been convicted of 
-adding to the burthens of the parish. She was sentenced 
to the house of correction, for the improvement of her morals, 
and had the grace to try to look modest and penitent on the 
occasion. From the judgment hall I accompanied my host to 
his residence at Cotesbatch, a small hamlet about a mile dis- 
tant, where I was welcomed with all the kindness and warmth 
of true old English hospitality. 

The Rector of the parish is also sole proprietor of the soil, 
an extensive body of land, of an excellent quality. About 
twenty or thirty tenants, with their families, form the congre- 
gation ; so that the rector unites in himself the characters of 
parson, magistrate, and landlord of his whole parish. The 
parsonage is a large irregular building, situated on a gentle 
ascent near the high road, which is lined with a double row 
of elms through the whole domain. A fine lawn, with gra- 
velled walks, opens in front of the house ; and the trees are 
loaded as usual with rook's nests, whose occupants hold a 
consultation every morning in the top of a venerable elm. 

The village of Lutterworth, which was for many years 
honoured with the ministry of Wickliff the reformex', stands 
in full view from my window. Here he preached and de- 
fended those doctrines, which, in a subsequent and more 
fortunate age, dispelled the papal darkness which had so long 
covered the nation. My veneration for his character indu- 
ced me to pay frequent visits to the spot, where the light of 
the Reformation first dawned in England. The identical 
pulpit in which he preached is still in good preservation. It 
is rudely carved in oak, which, in sheltered situations, is al- 
most as indestructible as marble ; and decorated with un- 



LUTTERWORIH. 107 

couth images, after the fashion of the times. The chair^ 
table, and two wooden gilt candlesticks, of the reformer, are 
still carefully preserved in the vestry-room, with the remnant 
of his embroidered robe. The table is quite a curiosity of 
itself, independently of its having been once the companion 
of a man so celebrated. The leaf is supported by two horrid 
images carved out of the solid oak, and the whole cannot 
weigh much less than two hundred pounds. There is a fine 
head of the reformer hanging in the church ; but by what 
artist I could not learn. A few years ago, a part of the 
tower fell and injured the building, which has since under- 
gone a complete repair. The new tower is of a moderate 
height, and in size and shape is not unlike that of the church 
in New Haven. Notwithstanding the boldness with which 
WicklifF laid his hands on the corruptions of the church, he 
lived to a good old age, and died quietly in his bed. Protected 
by the Duke of Lancaster, and some others of the nobility, 
who had grown impatient under the arrogance of the eccle- 
siastics, his person remained safe while he lived. He did 
not renounce the communion of the church whose corruptions 
he had exposed ; for as Collier remarks, " upon Innocent's 
day, being at mass in his church, he was seized with his old 
distemper, the palsy : this fit took away his speech, which he 
never recovered, but died upon the last of December," (1485.) 
The vengeance of his enemies, however, pursued him into 
the sanctuary of the grave. About 40 years after his death, 
pursuant to a decree of the council of Constance, in the 
quaint language of Fuller, — " Richard Fleming, Bishop of 
Lincoln, Diocesan of Lutterworth, sent his officers (vultures 
with a quick scent of a dead carcase) to ungrave him accord, 
ingly. To Lutterworth they came, Sumner, Commissarie, 
Official, Chancellour, Proctors, Doctors, and the servants, 
(so that the remnant of the body would not hold out a bone, 
amongst so many hands,) take what was left out of the grave, 
and burnt them to ashes, and cast them into the Swift, a 
neighbouring brook running hard by. Thus, this brook hath 
conveyed his ashes into the Avon ; Avon into the Severn ; 
Severn into the narrow seas ; and they into the main ocean» 



108 JOURNAL. 

A.nd thus, the ashes of Wickliff are the emblem of his doc- 
trine, which now is dispersed all the world over." 

During my stay at Cotesbatch, we frequently dined with 
the gentry in the neighbourhood. — In one of our rides, we 
crossed Watling street, one of the famous Roman roads in 
this country. It is elevated about three feet above the sur- 
face of the fields. An excavation, which some labourers 
were making, gave an opportunity of examining the strata of 
which the road was composed, and which proved to be no- 
thing but a deep bed of coarse gravel. The spaciousness of 
the street renders it a favourite resort of the gypsies ; but on 
this occasion, we only descried a little colony of travelling 
tinkers, who had squatted down under the hedge, with a 
suitable retinue of squalid children and puppies. 

Pursuing our ride, we passed through the village of New- 
bold, where a canal dives under a hill, and soon after crosses 
the Avon, which is here little larger than a mill-stream. A 
ride of half a mile farther up the beautiful valley, through 
which flows the Avon, brought us to Holbrook, the seat of 
Mr. Caldicott ; and we afterwards continued our ride to 
Rugby. This is the seat of one of the famous public schools, 
in which boys are prepared for the Universities. It was 
founded by a private citizen of London, and endowed with ' 
city lots, which have now become extremely valuable. Entire 
new buildings have lately been erected, consisting of a 
beautiful Gothic chapel, and a spacious edifice for the school, 
including the residence of the master. The number of 
boys now in the institution is about 200 ; formerly it con- 
tained twice that number. The town itself, exclusive of a 
few recently built edifices, has nothing very attractive in its 
appearance, it being both irregular and ill-built. We called 
on Admiral Chambers, a venerable old man, who passed 
some of his early years in America. He was at the taking 
of Quebec ; and commanded on lake Champlain in the war 
of the revolution. After dining with a relation of Mr. M., 
we returned late in the evening. 

On another occasion, we were invited to pass the day at 
the house of an intelligent gentleman, Mr. D., who, afler 



COTESBATCH. 



109 



distinguishing himself as a scholar at Cambridge, has chosen 
the retirement of a country seat, about six miles from Lut- 
terworth. Both he and his lady rendered themselves highly 
agreeable. — We had a few other guests ; and amidst the 
numerous enquiries which were put, I found my knowledge 
of the institutions of my own country, civil, political, legal, 
and ecclesiastical, subjected to a severe trial. The late war 
between the two countries becoming the topic of conversa- 
tion, it was obvious that the information of the company had 
all been gathered from English publications, without much 
suspicion of their inaccuracy ; and 1 was forced into a contest 
in support of the honor of the striped flag. The English are 
so much accustomed to triumph on the ocean that they hold 
it impossible that they can be beaten, except by a superior 
numerical force. It was amusing to see the spirit with which ' 
the ladies maintained the untarnished glory of the British 
arms. 

The country about Lutterworth, which is nearly in the 
centre of England, is gently varied with hill and dale. Lei- 
cestershire is a grazing county, and its mutton is in high 
repute. The sheep are fattened on turnips, of which im- 
mense fields are cultivated. A little patch is railed off by a 
fence of slender poles, into which the sheep are turned ; 
and when they have nibbled down the turnips quite into the 
ground, the fence is removed, and a fresh spot is enclosed. 
The pieces of roots which remam undevoured, are then dug 
up and thrown into the new enclosure. The sheep thrive 
remarkably well on this aliment, if it is occasionally changed 
for other food. 

After a fortnight's stay at Cotesbatch, I bade adieu to my 
kind and hospitable entertainer, of v/hose attentions, and 
those of his amiable lady, I shall ever retain a warm re- 
membrance. With a numerous and promising family, and a 
much larger portion of this world's goods than falls to the 
common lot, they have learned the christian art of so " using 
the world as not abusing it." The unaffected hospitality I 
have enjoyed here is of too pleasing a description to be soqu 
10 



110 



JOURNAL. 



forgotten, and I leave it with reluctance for the smoke, and 
hurry, and confusion of London. 



CHAPTER X. 



DEPARTURE FROM LUTTERWORTH RIDE TO ST. ALBAN's NORTHAMP- 
TON ST. ALBAn's ABBEY CHURCH HUMPHREY THE GOOD ANTIQUI- 
TIES AND REMAINS DEPARTURE FOR LONDON BISHOP OF ST. DAVId's 

REV J. PRATT. 

Long before daylight appeared, and full two hours too 
soon, William was at the door with the carriage, to transport 
me and my luggage to Lutterworth, through which the Holy- 
head coach passes on its return to London. On being set 
down at the public house, I found my way to the kitchen, 
where a comfortable fire was blazing in the grate ; and en- 
sconced myself in a sturdy oak chair, with ample leisure for 
rumination. The inmates of the house were all in bed. 
The fire cast a glimmering light on the bright array of pew- 
ter tankards and well-scoured copper utensils, which adorned 
these domains of the cook ; and the silence was inteiTupted 
only by the monotonous clicking of the jack, which continued 
plying its labours as if from habit, now that no savoury joint 
of mutton was hissing and spinning below. Once my reverie 
was interrupted by an idle fellow, who strolled into the room, 
and enquired, " if none of our chaps was stirring yet ?" 
Having dismissed him with a negative, I resumed my medi- 
tations. It was not long before I perceived an unusual com- 
motion in the waters of the Swift, which runs by the village ; 
and presently the dust of Wickliff began to be gathered to- 
gether in a manner not a little surprising ; and the venerable 
form of the Reformer stood before me, with his long but well 
turned face, flowing beard, and triangular cap. With a 
melancholy visage, he began a lamentation over the licen- 
tiousness of the age. He thought it a great scandal to re- 
ligion, that a set of low fellows, in the parish which had 



WICKLIFF. Ill 

once been his own, should mob, and insult, and even beat 
their poor curate,* for advising them not to abuse the holy 
festival of Christmas, by tippling and rioting in ale-houses. 
" Good Mr. WicklifF, I replied, this is all very bad, to be 
sure ; (pardon me for interrupting you) but how was it in 
your day ? Did not spiritual wickedness prevail then in high 
places ? Did not the priests themselves set the example of 
all kinds of vice, to the fellows of the baser sort ? And how 
happens it, that your bones are not now quietly sleeping in 
the grave, instead of being whirled about in that dirty brook 
yonder, from which you have just come up ?" To this, he 
was beginning to reply, that " that was an age of spiritual! 
darknesse, when men were ignorant of the true evangile, but 
did live as it were heatheness ; and the shepherdes were, 
forsothe, as blind as the silly sheepe themselves. But now 
the true light shineth throughout all godlie Englonde, and 
manie godlie pastors have arisen in the place of the dumb 
dogs that wold not barke. Wherefore, it behoveth," — Here 
the dialogue was interrupted by a heavy, rumbling noise ; 
and looking round for my companion, I saw nothing in the 
direction v/here he had stood but the shadow of a great coat 
hanging before the fire. Suspecting that I had been dream- 
ing, I gathered up my cloak and hastened to the door, where 
stood the coach I had been waiting for, with the " Saracen's 
Head" scowling on the panels. I climbed up to my seat 
between the fat guard on my left, and an emaciated corporal 
on my right, both of whom were soon fast locked in the arms 
of Morpheus. My position was one of discomfort, as well bs 
of some responsibiht}'-. The heads of my companions dabbed 
in my face at every jolt of the carriage ; and I was obliged 
every now and then to give the load of flesh which pressed 
upon me a shove, to restore the equilibrium, and avoid pre- 
cipitating the poor corporal into the road. The latter was 
no sooner asleep than he began to soliloquize, but so indis- 
tinctly that I could make nothing of his discourse. The poor 
tellow was afflicted with a great infirmity of brain, acquired 
perhaps by fatigue and exposure in his Majesty's service in 

* A fact that happened in Lutterworth a short time ago. 



1 12 JOURNAL. 

India ; for every thing we passed during the day reminded 
him of the Marquis of Cornwallis' tomb on the bank of the 
Ganges, or of Tippoo Saib, or of Sinde, or of something else 
five thousand miles off. 

At the village of Welford, the road crosses the Avon, 
which is here a diminutive stream ; and a little farther on, 
passes by the field of Naseby, where the unfortunate Charles 
I. was defeated in battle, and stripped of the last remains of 
regal power. The field of battle is an elevated piece of 
table land, the ascent to which on the north is through the 
village of Welford. A horseman's boot was lately ploughed 
up here in good preservation. It is of the stiffest and firmest 
leather, the soles enormously thick, and studded with nails. 
The Avon, Nen, and Ise, all running different ways, have 
their origin in this neighbourhood. Holdenby house, where 
the fallen monarch was for a time imprisoned after the bat- 
tie, is in plain sight from the road ; but is deserving of no 
particular notice, except from its connexion with the history 
of Charles' misfortunes. 

A ride of twenty -three miles brought us to Northampton, 
situated on a gentle slope, and containing a population of 
about 8,000. With this place is connected the name of the 
pious Doddridge, who made it the scene of his ministerial la- 
bours. The guard was more competent to inform me which 
were the best houses of entertainment, than to point out the 
meeting-house of the pious dissenter. Our long ride had 
sharpened our appetites for breakfast, miserable as it was ; 
and Mr. Orator Hunt's radical coffee was probably never 
drunk with less disposition to criticise its qualities. I was 
surprised to hear the passengers congratulate each other on 
the fineness of the day, till I recollected, that in the meteorolo- 
gical journal of an Englishman, " a fine day" is one, in which 
it does not rain more than half the time, which was about the 
proportion of drizzle we had experienced in our ride. The 
town presents a very handsome appearance from the south, 
and has quite a rural appearance from the number of shade- 
trees in the suburbs. The town hall is a fine object at a 
distance. 



RIDE TO ST. ALBAiN'S. H^ 

Two miles from Northampton, and close to the road, 
stands " Queen's Cross," one of those beautiful Gothic tow- 
ers erected by Edward I., to the memory of Eleanor, his 
queen. Although it has stood more than 700 years, it is 
still in good preservation. Its form is octagonal. The dia- 
meter at the base is about fifteen feet, and the apex of the 
tower is surmounted by a cross. The sides and angles are 
beautifully wrought in free stone, and broken by niches and 
statues ; and standing as it does in a recess in a grove, not 
far from the road, it forms an object striking and picturesque. 

Newport-Pagnel occurs next on the road, to get in or out 
of which it is necessary to cross the Ouse, here as marshy 
and stagnant as ever. This stream seems to be haunted 
through its whole course by the spirt of bogs and fens. The 
town occupies an eminence between the doublings of the 
rivpr, and is large enough to contain 3 or 4000 inhabitants. 

Woburn, forty-two miles from London, has one of the 
most beautiful parish churches I have yet seen. Its walls are 
completely covered with ivy ; and the building, which is very 
ancient, is in fine repair. The tower stands quite by itself 
a few feet from the church. While the horses were changed, 
I walked into the church-yard, and observed through the 
windows that the church was decorated with the garlands of 
Christmas. 

As we drove out of the village, Woburn Abbey, the splen- 
did mansion of the Duke of Bedford, appeared in full view 
on our left, about half a mile up a narrow valley, shaded with 
ancient elms and oaks ; and about a mile farther on, we came 
to the porter's lodge, and the entrance into the park. The 
large, studded, brass gates, glittering in the rays of the set- 
ting sun, and the fine proportions of the architecture, cannot 
fail to attract the traveller's attention. At length, we descried 
at a distance the dingy form of the Abbey of St. Albans, and 
arrived at comfortable lodgings in the dusk of the evening. 

St. Alban was a saint of the third century, and a martyr ; 
but where his bones were deposited, remained a mystery, 
until the problem was solved in the following manner. OfFaj 
king of Mercia, having treacherously murdered the king of 
10* 



114 JOURNAL. 

the East Angles, was informed in a vision of the spot whefe 
the sainted bones were ingloriously laid to rest ; and as an 
expiation of his crime, was directed to build a religious house 
over the grave, to the memory of the saint. The Abbey was 
accordingly founded in the year 739. The monastery con- 
nected with it once covered ten acres of ground, and the 
Abbot had the precedence of all others in the kingdom. The 
great wealth of this foundation attracted the cupidity of 
Henry VIII., who sequestered the revenues, demolished the 
buildings, and turned the monks adrift. The church was 
spared, only in consequence of the inhabitants paying a large 
sum of money to the rapacious monarch. The gorgeous 
painted windows, and the harmless figures of uncouth mon- 
sters wrought into the architecture, were dashed to pieces or 
sadly mutilated, as a matter of course, by Cromwell's round- 
headed fanatics ; but the place has still many attractions. 
As almost every part of the Abbey has been rebuilt or re- 
paired ; and each portion in the prevalent style of the age, 
all the varieties of architecture are observable, from the pon- 
derous Norman, down to the light Gothic of the time of 
Henry VII. The heavy, low tower is principally Norman ; 
but the little modern white spire, peeping up from within the 
battlements, like a flag-staff from some noble castle, is not 
in very good keeping with the rest. The exterior of the 
walls has been patched in many places with brick, some of 
which have been stuccoed in imitation of the stone ; but as 
much of it has peeled off, the building presents a very 
tattered appearance on the outside. The length of this 
mighty pile is now between five and six hundred feet, and 
was once much longer, as is evident from the fragments of 
the wall which still remain. Its greatest breadth at the 
transept is 217 feet. 

Having sought out the parish clerk, a dapper little talka- 
tive body, who, for the convenience of strangers requiring 
his service, had the nature of his vocation painted on a sign 
over his door, I went to view the interior of the Abbey, 
Entering on the south-west side, the visitor is admitted 
through a screen to the Vestry, where repose the ashes of 



ST. ALBANS. 115 

some of the Abbots. Before Oliver's zealots had laid every 
thing waste which savoured of the harlot that sitteth on the 
seven hills, a number of bi-azen monuments of singular 
beauty existed here ; but none have survived except that of 
the Abbot de la Marc, who flourished in the reign of Edward 
III. It is a plate of brass, or of a composition resembling 
it, eight or nine feet high, on which is engraved a full length 
portrait of the Abbot in his robes and mitre, besides a num- 
ber of smaller figures and devices. Here, too, stood the 
costly shrine of the saint, the prevailing efficacy of whose 
intercessions must have been greatly coveted, if the hollows 
in the granite pavement were actually worn by the knees of 
devout pilgrims. Here also is the vault of " Humphrey the 
Good, Duke of Glo'ster," and brother of the Fifth Henry. 
The door being raised, I went down a flight of steps, and 
took up some of the bones out of their leaden cerements. 
This vault was accidentally discovered half a century ago, 
when the body was found in good preservation, it being 
soldei'ed up in a leaden coffin enclosing a pickle of a highly 
aromatic smell. As the liquor evaporated, or was drunk up, 
as my conductor reported, by the visiters, the flesh moulder- 
ed away ; but the bones are dry and hard. They seem to 
have belonged to a man of small stature ; but my knowledge 
of craniology was too small to ennble me to determine, by 
the bumps on the skull, whether his Royal Highness was just- 
ly entitled to the epithet attached to his name. In various 
nooks about the Vestry are deposited Roman urns dug up in 
the neighbourhood — little brazen monuments with Saxon in- 
scriptions — fleshless skulls and bones — the sad remnants of 
mortality, and the eloquent monitors of the living. 

Passing through the light and exquisitely beautiful screen, 
which divides the vestry from the choir, the visiter has a com- 
manding view of the whole remaining length of the Abbey. 
The two rows of pillars which extend from the transept to 
the western extremity, and divide the side aisles from the 
nave, are singularly contrasted ; for while those on the north 
are Norman, and thirty feet in circumference, the opposite 



116 JOURNAL. 

ones are clustered, of light proportions, and evidently the 
work of a much later age. 

On the whole, although St. Albans, when compared with 
many of the Cathedrals in this island, must yield the palm ; 
yet, the antiquarian, the Christian, and the moralist, may oc- 
cupy himself not unprofitably amongst its time-worn relics : 
and if he goes away, more practically convinced of the real 
vanity of human distinctions, after handling the poor remains 
of one of royal lineage ; — more feelingly apprehensive of 
the day that is coming, when 

The cloud-cap't towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, yea, the g-lobe itself. 
And all that it inherit, shall dissolve, — 

after gazing at the solid grandeur of this venerable pile ; and 
more entirely resolved, in reliance on divine assistance, to 
*' work while the day lasts," in expectation of the long, deep 
repose of the grave ; he will not have mused and moralized 
in vain. 

It may be remarked, that the only good view of the Abbey 
is from the south-west, on the road to St. Stephen's, an emi- 
nence on the opposite side of the Ver, which runs down the 
valley till it meets the Colne. From almost every other point, 
the view is obstructed by buildings and inequalities of the 
ground. 

About forty yards from the north-west angle of the church, 
stands a sort of castellated tower, with walls of enormous 
thickness, now used as a prison. It is pierced by a lofty 
gate-way, arched and ribbed overhead ; and the remains of 
a heavy oaken gate, studded with spikes, adheres still to the 
hinges. The small towers rising from each angle, and pro- 
vided with loop-holes and battlements, indicate that it was 
constructed as a work of defence. 

St. Al ban's was once a Roman station of considerable im- 
portance, and many antiquities of that extraordinary people, 
such as urns and other specimens of pottery, coins, and relics 
of various descriptions, have been dug up in the neighbour- 
hood. Many fragments of their stone walls are yet remain- 
ing. They are generally constructed of nodules of flint, 



RIDE TO LONDON. 



117 



imbedded in a cement, which has become as hard as the flint 
itself. The population of St. Alban's may be 3 or 4,000, 
The houses are generally old and indifferent. HoUoway 
house, the residence of the Countess Dowager Spencer, stands 
at the foot of the hill by the river ; but is in no wise remarka- 
ble, except for the holy well in the garden, whose healing 
powers were once held in vast estimation. Since the Re- 
formation, the spring has lost its virtues, and is now appUed 
to the vulgar uses of life. 

Having taken a hasty view of the curiosities in St. Alban's 
and its neighbourhood, I mounted the coach on New-Year's 
day, on a most delightful morning, and took the road to Lon- 
don. St. Alban's is about twenty miles from the metropohs. 
I have now got pretty well I'econciled to sailing through the 
air on the top of the coach ; and by standing up a part of the 
time, which it is easy to do on fine smooth roads, one has the 
advantage of an occasional change of posture, and of a better 
view of the surrounding country. After crossing the Colne, 
the road lies through Ridge-hill, Kitt's End, and Barnet, — 
the latter an ancient and rather populous village. In its 
neighborhood was fought the decisive battle, in 1471, between 
the'houses of York and Lancaster, in which the patty of the 
latter was defeated, and the Earl of Warwick slain. An 
obelisk points out the fatal spot. The country all along is 
beautifully varied with hill and dale, and many a lordly man- 
sion glitters in the prospect. Li a valley on the right. Por- 
ters, the seat of the Marquis of Sligo, stands in full view ; 
and a few miles further on is Wrotham Park, the countiy resi- 
dence of G. Byng, Esq. It is a most princely mansion, and 
appears to great advantage, on an elevation in the midst of 
an extensive park. Finchly Common, once a heathy, bar- 
ren plain, is now principally enclosed, and under cultivation. 
After crossing it, we began to ascend Highgate, one of Thomp- 
son's " Sister hills ;" and from the top, a glorious prospect 
burst on the view, extending over the valley of the Thames, 
with all its villages, and spires, and groves, and palaces, 
stretching away towards Ramsgate ; while London lay be- 
neath us, covered as usual by a dense cloud of smoke, which 



118 JOURNAL. 

rolled and tossed in the wind like a troubled ocean. Passing 
through a cleft in the hill, and under an arch of seventy feet 
in height, supporting a cross road, we began to descend ; and 
soon after, I reached my lodgings in Chapel Place, after an 
absence of between four and five weeks. 

Being favoured with an introduction to the Bishop of St. 
David's, I waited on him one day at his lodgings in Upper 
Montague Street. His zeal, his theological attainments, 
which have often been called forth in defence of Christian 
truth, and the exertions he has made to found a Theological 
School for the education of ministers in his obscure Diocese, 
have all conspired to place him on a high eminence among 
his brethren of the mitre. His reception of me was so kind 
find condescending, that, combined with what I had heard of 
liis character, it was impossible not to love and venerate him. 
His views are large and liberal, and he seems to be wholly 
given to the duties of his sacred profession. His eyes are so 
weak as to oblige him to wear a shade ; and he is too much 
of a student to give ihem any respite. 

Fi'oni his lodgings, I went to pay my respects to the Rev. 
Josiah Pratt, the indefatigable Secretary of the Church Mis- 
sionary Society. I foand him buried under a heap of jmanu- 
scripts and Reports, which he was engaged in arranging and 
epitomising, preparatory to the annual meeting. He said he 
had thirty days' labour to perform, before the Report could be 
got ready. The extensive operations of this Society render 
the office of Secretary a laborious one ; and nothing but the 
habits of intense application, which the present incumbent is 
known to possess, could enable him to fill it, amidst the avoca- 
tions of a parish minister — to say nothing of the literary works 
in which he has been engaged. 

The popularity of the late Bishop Dehon in this country, is 
unbounded. A gentleman assured me, that no sermons have 
been so mnch preached as his ; partly on account of their own 
intrinsic excellence ; and partly, from their being the pro- 
ductions of an American Bishop, and therefore supposed to 
be but little known in England. The latter, however, is a 
mistake. They are better known, and have been more unit 



RAMBLE. 118 

versally read, than almost any sermons of the present age. 
Three or four editions have already passed through the press. 
The President's Message, which has just arrived, is much 
talked of here, and takes wonderfully. What he says of the 
independence of the South American principalities, and the 
interference of European powers in the affairs of that conti- 
nent, is greatly applauded by many of the English, who are 
getting more and more distrustful of "the Holy AUiance." 



CHAPTER XI. 



RAMBLE ABOUT LONDON GUILDHALL COURT OF KING S BENCH BIL- 
LINGSGATE CUSTOM-HOUSE THE TOWER EXETER 'CHANGE. 

January 6th. — This day has been wholly devoted to a 
ramble about London, to look at curiosities. A friend call- 
ed on me after breakfast, and proposed an excursion ; and 
we accordingly took our way through St. Giles,' that para- 
dise of usquebaugh and " blue ruin," to which the low Irish 
generally resort on coming to London. Such a place of filth, 
and tipsy jollity, and nocturnal rows, and squalid wretched- 
ness, is no where to be found, except on " Saffron Hill" in 
the vicinity of Fleet Ditch, where a large portion of the in- 
digenous poverty of the metropolis is congregated. The first 
object of our inspection was Guild Hall, so famous in the an- 
nals of London. Here, the Lord Mayor eats custards at city 
feasts ; and here too, the foreign monarchs ate a hearty din- 
ner in June, 1814, at the trifling expense of £20,000. The 
hall where these and other memorable achievements have 
happened, is upwards of 150 feet long and in a very pleas- 
ing Gothic style of architecture. Gog and Magog still occu- 
py their wonted stations under the western window ; but as 
it was an early hour in the day, we had not the gratification 
of seeing them come down to dine. The walls are decora- 
ted with monuments in bas-relief, of Chatham, Nelson, Pitt, 



120 JOURNAL. 

and Beckford the late Lord Mayor, — the latter in the attitude 
of making a speech to George III. 

From the Hall, we made our way through divers passages 
and apartments to the Courtof King's Bench, where the Lord 
Chief Justice Abbot was patiently listening to a dispute be- 
tween two fish-mongers. He was dressed in his gown, bob- 
wig, and bands. Copley and Scarlett were pointed out to 
me — the latter a portly, red-faced man, with the look of a 
hon vivant. The Common Council chamber, under the same 
roof, is a very pretty room, and prettily ornamented with 
paintings by Copley, Lonsdale, and others. The destruction 
of the combined fleet before Gibraltar, the death of Rizzio, 
and that of Wat Tyler, were among the most attractive. 

Leaving Guild Hall by a dark, crooked alley, so narrow 
as barely to allow two persons to walk abreast, I suddenly 
confronted an old Baltimore acquaintance, just returned from 
Fi'ance and bound to La Guira. It was somewhat against 
the doctrine of probabilities, that we should meet vis a vis in 
an unfrequented court, and amongst a population of more 
than a million. — The Auction Mart, Lloyd's, and the New. 
England CoiTee-House, the latter a very dirty, dark place, 
were next visited. Here we found New- York papers dated 
only twenty -one days back : so rapidly had they been trans- 
ported over 3000 miles of ocean, and 230 of land ! 

Turning aside towards the Thames, we were soon elbow- 
ing our way among the fair damsels of Billingsgate. As it 
happened not to be fish-market day, and the ladies were not 
fighting, our ears were saluted with none of their courteous 
phraseology ; only we were much annoyed by their impor- 
tunities to buy their fish. The price of fresh cod-fish to-day 
is five shillings per pound. Two guineas is a very common 
price for one of moderate size. 

Adjoining Billingsgate, and a little to the east, stands the 
Custom-house, begun in 1813, and completed in 1817. This 
fine structure is 480 feet in length by 100 in depth, and is 
in a very plain style of architecture. It stands directly on 
the bank of the Thames. The Long Room is the most stri- 
king object — its dimensions being 190 feet by ^6, and 55 in 



THE TOWER. 



121 



height. It is one of the largest rooms in Europe, whose 
ceihng is unsupported by intermediate pillars. Many of the 
rooms are rendered tire proof, and the whole is constructed 
with a view to utility rather than elegance. I could not help 
contrasting its plebeian plainness with a. poor -house now build- 
ing on the road to Highgate, which the committee, with a most 
preposterous taste, are constructing in a highly ornamented 
Gothic style, and at a great expense. It looks more like 
one of the new colleges at Cambridge, than a house for the 
poor. Where is the fitness of lodging the poor in palaces ? 
To the custom-house are attached about 650 officers and 
clerks, besides 1000 tide-waiters and servants. A terrace 
affording an agreeable promenade, extends along the whole 
front next the river. 

The next object we visited was the Tower. He whose 
young imagination has been kindled, by reading of the crimes 
and bloody executions which have been perpetrated here — of 
the sufferings and imprisonment of those of royal and noble 
lineage, within its gloomy walls ; and by the prominent fig. 
ure it makes in the early history of the kings of England, will 
probably be disappointed, at finding only an irregular cluster 
of old buildings, surrounded by a mote and a low wall. The 
ancient tower itself is indeed but a small part of what goes 
by the name of The Tower. 

It is quite unnecessary to transcribe a dozen pages from 
the "Description of the Tower of London," after the com- 
mon fashion of journalists. The Royal Menagerie is a 
high sounding name ; but in truth, it is a very ordinary con. 
cern. A brick shed about 15 feet high, in a semi-circular 
form, in which are encaged sundry hons, bears, tygers, cat. 
amounts and raccoons, none of them at all remarkable, forms 
the Royal Menagerie. In another range, there is no want 
of monkeys and parrots, grinning, chattering, and croaking 
most vilely : but in the serpents' room, I was gratified with 
the sight of a young Boa Constrictor, and an Anaconda, with 
divers others of the snaky tribe, from the hot climates of 
the East. The Boa is about fourteen feet in length, and 
11 



122 JOURNAL. 

as thick as a man^ arm, with a handsomely spotted hide. 
In a large box in one corner of the room lay a pile of alli- 
gators, crocodiles and lizards — all so torpid and sluggish, 
that they scarcely deigned to move, unless provoked. The 
serpents are kept warmly wrapped up in blankets over a 
stove ; and after making a dinner on fowls and rabbits, 
they take a siesta of three weeks or a month's duration. 

Every child has the contents of the Spanish Armoury 
by heart. Like most visitants, I suppose, I handled the Span- 
ish Ranceurs, made to stab, hew down, or cut the bridles of 
the cavalry — thrust my arm into the shield with a little pis- 
tol-barrel sticking out of the boss, and took aim through the 
grating ; a very awkward and inefficient weapon — shook 
sundry long iron-shod pikes, which looked as though they 
might have belonged to the Macedonian phalanx — brandish- 
ed Danish and Saxon war-clubs — flourished a two-edged, 
cross hilted Saxon broad-sword — felt the edge of the axe 
which beheaded the beauteous Ann Boleyn, and afterwards, 
the Earl of Essex, — an implement shaped like a housewife's 
chopping knife — rolled about divers star-shot, chain-shot, and 
link-shot, found on board the Armada — screwed up my thumb 
in a little trinket very prettily contrived for that operation, 
but found the screw too badly worn to hold — essayed to 
endue my neck in an iron cravat — poised a Spanish board- 
ing-pike, with six spikes and a spear at one end, and a match- 
lock pistol at the other ; and strutted about with Hal's walk- 
ing-staff, armed with three match-lock pistols, which procur- 
ed him the honour of being sent one night to the round-house, 
as he was taking his princely pastime in smashing windows 
and knocking down watchmen. I was not particularly 
struck with the figure of Queen Bess, speechifying to her 
troops at Tilbury, in her suit of armour and white silk em- 
broidered petticoat ; although the grey headed warder as- 
sured me, that the attentive and graceful attitude of the page 
was much admired. 

In THE HoKSE Armoury, I filed along in front of the wax 
figures of the Edwards, and Henrys, and James, and Charles, 
and Georges, all mounted on wooden horses, and in armour. 



_, THE TOVVER. 123 

Save and except the armour in which the figures are clad, 
with reverence be it spoken, this is a very pitfiul exhibition. 
Here is an immense collection of the spoils of Waterloo ; 
and I tried on a steel helmet which once covered 

some poor fellow's skull — 

Who was slain in the great victory. 

Here, too, is John of Gaunt's coat of mail, with all his ar- 
mour complete — the wearer, by the by, must have been eight 
feet high at least ; — besides an abundance of cuirasses, some 
perforated with bullet-holes — tilting armour, and horses' coats 
of mail ; and, by some inexplicable fancy in classification, a 
model of the original machine for throwing silk, imported 
from Italy by Sir Thomas Loombe, in 1734. 

I stopped long enough in The Royal Train op Artillery 
to examine all the oldest specimens of cannon ; and was 
surprised to see how little improvement has been made in the 
manufacture of that weapon, since the time of Henry VHI. 
Some of the pieces of ordnance, cast in his reign, are almost 
as beautifully modelled and as highly finished, as those of 
modern construction. 

The smallest Armoury is 345 feet long ; and before the 
battle of Waterloo, contained arms for more than 200,000 
men. Those still remaining are sufficient for 150,000 ; 
amongst which, are many old pieces of curious device, and 
from various nations. A two-pound piece, taken by the 
French at Malta, which fell into the hands of the English on 
its way to Paris, is a great curiosity. It is cast from a com- 
position metal which very much resembles gold ; and carved 
all over with singular beauty. The carriage is of the finest 
and most curious workmanship. The centre of the wheels 
represents the face of the sun, and the spokes the rays. 
This piece bears the date of 1684, and has the head of the 
Grand Master of Malta, in bas relief. 

In viewing the Regalia, I was careful not to commit such 
a blunder as I was guilty of in the Menagerie ; where I un- 
wittingly provoked the keeper to great wrath, by teUing him, 
that the animal which he was showing otF as an American 
Jox was a raccoon; — in short, I found it best to doubt nothing, 



J24 JotjRNAL. 

and ask no impertinent questions. When we were all seated 
in front of the curtain, which concealed these awful myste- 
ries of royalty, the lamps burning on each side of the cavern, 
the high-priestess suddenly drew up the vail, as if to over- 
whelm us at once with their glories. After waiting a min- 
ute to allow us time to recover our self-possession, she put 
herself in the attitude of an orator about to be delivered of a 
speech. Placing one arm a-kimbo, and stretching forth the 
other towards the glittering baubles, she began in a most 
solemn measured tone, — " Ladies and gentlemen, please to 
attend the explanations." The gentlemen behaved with all 
due decorum ; but the ladies were somewhat overcome by the 
pompous manner of the priestess, and laughed outright. 
However, we had a very clear and methodical description of 
each article, from the royal crown of his present Most Sacred 
Majesty, down to the golden tea-spoons used at the corona- 
tion : but the speech had been committed to memory verbatim 
from one ofthe numerous " Descriptions of the Tower." The 
two crowns cost each about £100,000 ; and on comparing 
them, it was difficult to determine, why the crovm of his an- 
cestors might not have fitted the temples of George IV. 

Emerging from the smoky den in which the Regalia are 
kept, the house was pointed out in which Sir Francis Bur- 
dett sojourned, during his stay in these parts. It is certainly 
less spacious than his mansion in St. James', but looks com- 
fortable enough, notwithstanding. 

The White Tower, built by William the conqueror, is the 
original building, which has given name to the whole cluster 
enclosed within the mote. The walls of this structure are 
eleven feet in thickness, and the architecture is Saxon. We 
were shown the chamber in which Edward V. and his un- 
happy brother Richard, were smothered, by order of their 
hump-backed uncle the Duke of Glocester, afterwards Rich- 
ard III. ; and the stair-case, under which their bones were 
discovered in the reign of Charles II. 

After snatching a hasty dinner, we went to view the col- 
lection of wild beasts in Exeter 'Change, in the Strand. It 
is the largest in the kingdom, and probably the largest in the 



EXETER 'CHANGE. 126 

world, belonging to a private indi\-idual ; but it is to be regret- 
ted that the stalls of the beasts are not placed in a yard in the 
open air, instead of being crowded together in three or four 
rooms where they are not seen to good advantage, nor with- 
out great offence to the nostrils. Even the huge elephant* 
has his apartment in the second storv*, where he revolves 
round his little orbit of 20 feet in diameter, with the occasion- 
al indulgence of drawing a bolt, and thrusting forth "his 
lithe proboscis" to receive the offerings of visiters. He is 
ten feet high, and weighs five tons. There is a great variety 
of lions, tygers, panthers, leopards, bisons, and animals of al- 
most every species hitherto discovered. In one of the cages, 
a fine lion and a Bengal tygress lead a remarkably happv fife 
together — pawing, and ramping, and fondling, like the best 
friends in the W(>rld. I observed that one of the lions in the 
tower had been rendered so tame, that the keeper went into 
his den and played with him as with a dog. — The beast ap- 
peared delighted with the visit, and held his keeper with his 
paws till he was told to let go. 

The collection of exotic birds is no less rare and varied 
than that of the beasts ; but it is impossible to carr}- away- 
more than an indistinct recollection of them, from a single 
%-isit. Here, too, in one of the apartments, is a beautifiil Boa 
constrictor, 16 feet in length, as sluggish as the one in the 
tower. He appeared to be near the time of shedding his 
skin, and was almost blind by a film over his eves. He 
seemed to be very tender, as he started and gave a hiss, on 
lapng my hand on his back. It is some weeks since he 
din^«'on his usual allowance of six fowls, which he slaugh- 
ters for himself by enclosing them in his folds, and swallows, 
feathers and all. He was brought from Java. Here ter- 
minated our peregrinations for the day. 



* This noble animal, the largest of civilized elephants, became so 
ungovernable about a year ago, that it was found necessary to destroy 
him. after he had killed his keeper. 
11* 



126 JOURNAL. 

CHAPTER XII. 



CONSECRATION OF A CHURCH VISIT TO HIGHAM HILL — ECONOMY OF 

LONDONERS MR. CAMPBELL THE MISSIONARY ANECDOTES SUNDAY 

MORNING AT SURREY CHAPEL ROWLAND HILL — ST. PAUL's SIR 

CHRISTOPHER WREN CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY REV. CHARLES 

JERRAM. 

I went one moi'ning to attend the conseci-ation of a new 
church in Bryanston Square, one of those edifices which are 
shooting up in rapid succession in the western part of Lon- 
don. The service was performed by the Bislaop of London in 
a very solemn and impressive manner ; but the sermon, by a 
clergyman whose name I could not learn, was scarcely wor- 
thy of the occasion, or of the large and intelligent audience 
assembled to witness the ceremony. It was, in truth, an 
empty, pithless, verbose composition. The church is a large 
structure of yellow brick, very neatly but plainly finished. 

On the following day, I accepted an invitation to pass the day 

with Mr. I , at Higham Hill, about seven or eight miles 

from London. The day was so dark and foggy, that it was 
impossible to discern objects not situated immediately on the 
road. Leaving the city at the east end, and passing thi'ough 
Clapton, we came to Walthamstowe, where I left the coach, 
and proceeded on foot by a cross road which led to Higham 
Hill, where I arrived very plentifully anointed with mud and 
drizzle. 

I met with a most agreeable reception from Mr. I. and his 
lady, who live here in a retired but hospitable manner, on an 
ample fortune. He has a fine green house and a noble gar- 
den, in which he talies his principal recreation, as he is too 
infirm to engage in any active pursuits. But a more cheerful 
and interesting man I have rarely met with. Few natives of 
the United States are so well informed with regard to their 
own country, or have so large a mass of accurate local know- 
ledge, as Mr. I. is possessed of; and his character is further 
adorned by a most cheerful and ardent piety. It happened 



ROAD-MAKING. 127 

to be the day when the trial of Weare's mufderers was con- 
cluded ; and the evening papers announced that sentence of 
death had been passed on Thurtell and Hunt, who are to be 
executed to-morrow. Thurtell's whole ambition seems to 
have been to shine in a speech on his trial, and he has been 
for weeks studying the Newgate Calendar for the materials. 
It is incredible how much of the public attention has been at- 
tracted by this hardened wretch. Almost every paper in 
town has polluted its pages daily with some disgusting narra- 
tive orother concerning him ; and the reading populace not 
only tolerates, but demands these revolting details. The ef- 
fect cannot but be, to render the sensibilities of the population 
callous to crime, and divest public justice of its majesty and 
terror. A public execution is a perfect holiday to the popu- 
lace ; a prize-figlit between two sturdy boxers, their dearest 
recreation. There can be no doubt, but that shows of gladi- 
ators, bull-fights, or any other spectacle which scattereth 
blood and death around, would be greedily run after, were 
they permitted by the laws. 

On the following day, a friend of Mr. I. offered me a seat 
in his Stanhope to town. He is a commissioner of roads, and 
was very communicative on the art of road-making, as it is 
now universally adopted in this country. A full trial of Mac 
Adam's system has completely established its superiority for 
country roads, and the experiment is now making in some of 
the streets in London. A ton of pounded stones is delivered 
at the wharves on the Thames for eighteen shillings. The 
small blocks of granite with which London is generally paved, 
are brought from Aberdeen, a distance of more than five hun- 
dred miles ! The employment of pebbles in paving streets is 
scarcely known here ; and the economy of using them to 
such an extent in our American cities is more than doubtful. 
From their oval shape, they are easily displaced by the pres- 
sure of heavy wheels ; and the effects of freezing and thaw- 
ing, in breaking up a pavement of pebbles, are well known. 
Every few years, it becomes necessary to tear it up and lay 
it down anew ; while a pavement of oblong blocks of stone is 
liable to be affected by none of these causes. 



128 JOURNAL. 

Some idea may be formed of the economy practised in this 
great city, from the following fact which my companion rela- 
ted as having just come to his knowledge. About four hun- 
dred broken-down cart and coach horses are slaughtered eve- 
ry week, and boiled, for the cats and dogs in the city. 
There are four licensed horse -butchers, who kill each about 
fifty per week, which they purchase at an average price of 
twenty-five shillings a head. The skins are sold to the leath- 
er-dressers ; the shoes to the iron-mongers ; the hair to the 
upholsterers ; the bones to the button-makers ; and the flesh, 
after being boiled in huge kettles, to the retailers of cats' 
meat, who sell it out by the pound to their customers, as reg- 
ularly as the bakers supply the families with bread ! Thus, 
every thing is turned to account by this economical people. 

At the table of a friend, I had the pleasure of meeting one 
day with Mr. Campbell, a Missionary to the South of Africa, 
who has published an interesting book of travels into the inte- 
rior of that unexplored continent. Mr. C is an intelligent 
looking Scotchman, abundantly communicative and enter- 
taining on the subject of his travels. He penetrated as far 
as Lattakoo, 1,300 miles from the Cape, a point to which no 
European had ever attained before him. His anecdotes of 
the singular people he visited were highly amusing, and illus- 
trative of human nature in some of its new varieties. 

Of the sagacity of oxen in finding water in the desert, he re- 
lated an instance which came under his own observation. 
They were obliged to cross one of those sandy wastes, in 
which it was usual for numbers of cattle to perish by thirst. 
By making as few and as short stops as possible, he escaped 
with the loss of only four out of the hundred and twenty or 
thirty, which composed his caravan. Besides these, a large 
drove of sheep and goats followed the party, on which the Hot- 
tentots were to subsist. Just at break of day, when all were 
ready to faint with thirst, the oxen made a sudden halt, and 
snufied the air around as if uncertain which way to proceed ; 
while the sheep and goats, taught by instinct or observation 
to trust to the superior sagacity of the oxen, patiently waited 
their decision. After a minute or two, they all struck off at 



MR. CAMPBELL. 129 

a gallop towards a little bushy hill at some distance ; but 
when the party arrived, they found to their mortification that 
the pools had been just emptied. The oxen immediately 
took a new direction followed by the whole squadron, and 
quickly came to another pool, into which they plunged, fol- 
lowed by sheep, goats, Hottentots, and the good missionary 
himself. 

In a skirmish with some Boschmen, a Hottentot of the 
party was wounded in the neck by a poisoned arrow. The 
man submitted to have a large piece of flesh cut out, in the 
hope of arresting the poison ; but all to no purpose. No al- 
teration appeared in him the first night : the next morning, 
Mr. C. consulted an old Hottentot on the probable issue. 
The sage pointed to the sun ; and, tracing his finger along 
his course to the west, as soon as it came to the horizon, he 
put his hand to his mouth as if plucking something out of it 
• — thus intimating that at sunset the spirit of the wounded 
man would depart. About noon, his feet began to swell ; 
and the inflammation rapidly extended over his whole body, 
so that scarcely the shape of a man was left ; and the mo- 
ment the sun sank behind the hills, he expired. 

One day, three of the party v/ent out to look for some o-f 
their straj^ed cattle. One of them having gone a little dis- 
tance frora his companions, sud^'^^ily came in front of three 
lions couofcorJ aiiiuiig thc bushes. It was too late to retreat ; 
he gave a hasty glance after his companions, but on looking 
again at the savage beasts, they had advanced some steps 
nearer. He had sufficient presence of mind to adopt the 
usual practice of the Hottentots, when they find themselves 
in such an unwelcome neighbourhood — that of standing still, 
and looking them steadily in the face, while he waved his 
musket in the air as a signal to the rest of the party. They 
came up, but it was only to share in his trepidation. They 
maintained their ground, however, looking steadily at their 
enemies ; who, growing tired of this species of ogling, at 
length slowly withdrew. It is a singular fact, that few rave- 
nous beasts can long endure the steady gaze of man, or will 
attack him while he stands firm, and an attentive observer of 



130 JOURNAL. 

their motions. Does not such an incident strikingly illus- 
trate the remarkable pledge given to Noah ? — " The fear of 
you, and the dread of you, shall be upon every beast of the 
earth ; — into your hands are they delivered." 

An animal w^as killed by the party, vt^hich, Mr. C. thought, 
must be the unicorn of the Scriptures. It was a large, pow- 
erful animal, with a single, strong, pointed horn, growing di- 
rectly out of his forehead. The skull, with this remarkable 
appendage, is deposited in the museum of the London Mis- 
sionary Society. 

When Mr. Campbell returned to the Cape, he persuaded 
four of the Lattakoos to accompany him, with a view to es- 
tablish a friendly intercourse which might hereafter subserve 
the plans of the missionaries. One of them was a stout, 
sprightly young fellow ; and Mr. C. related the following an- 
ecdote of the simplicity of this untutored savage. Dining 
one day at the Cape, in company with some officers and 
their ladies, it was proposed after dinner to send for the young 
Lattakoo for the amusement of the company. On entering 
the brilliantly illuminated apartment, the first things which 
caught his attention were three or four strings of beads en- 
twining the neck of one of the fair. The young savage, 
without taking the least notice of any of the company, skip- 
ped round the table, thi-uat his arm over her shoulder and 
«hook the trinkets with ineffable deliglii, j^rinning and ex- 
claiming, *' good, good." The next thing that struck his 
fancy was a large pier glass, before which he strutted back 
and forth, and played a variety of antic tricks. — The branch 
candlesticks and chandeliers came in for a share of his admi- 
ration: but of the company, he was utterly regardless. Af- 
ter quaffing a couple of glasses of wine, which he pronoun- 
ced " good, good," he had leave of absence for the rest of 
the evening. 

Should the interior of Africa be ever thoroughly explored, 
it is not improbable but that the honour of the enterprise is 
reserved for missionaries. How much that was unknown 
before, has already been brought to light by their unwearied 
labours ! No class of men possesses in an equal degree the 



ROWLAND HILL. 131 

requisite qualities of a discoverer. The nature of their em- 
ployment engages them to penetrate into every quarter of the 
globe, 

" Where'er the human race is found ;" 
they are men of intelligence, qualified to observe and re- 
cord their observations ; and above all, they are men of 
peaceable and unoffending manners. The world is already 
indebted to them for a large mass of accurate and minute in- 
formation, concerning provinces hitherto but little explored ; 
and their researches are every day bringing new and inter- 
esting facts to light, illustrative of the history of man. It is 
true that this is, and ought to be, but a secondary object with 
the missionary, who goes forth with the news of salvation to 
a world that lieth in wickedness ; but their labours have inci- 
dentally added much to our stock of knowledge relating to 
the dark places of the earth. 

Rowland Hill is one of the few men in the world, who com- 
bine great eccentricity of character with an ardent spirit of 
Christian benevolence. Possessed of an ample fortune, he 
early devoted himself to the ministry, in connexion, I believe, 
with the Whitfield Methodists ; although I understand he 
professes to be attached to no particular denomination ; and 
erected at his own expense, on the Surrey side of the river, a 
large Chapel, for the use of the poor population in the neigh- 
bourhood. I set off one Sunday morning, to be one of his 
hearers ; but having a long distance to walk, I did not arrive 
till the service was partly over. The prayers were read by 
a young man, who appeared not to be unconscious of possess- 
ing the advantage of a fine voice, in the management of 
which he showed some affectation. His prefixing an ugh to 
every word which began with an /*, was an embellishment 
which I do not remember to have observed, since I last heard 
a celebrated preacher in Baltimore. To say, — " Our Father 
who art inw^^-heaven :" — "that our ugh-heaxis may be un- 
feignedly thankful" — is certainly a novel way of giving em- 
phasis to the Liturgy. The service of the Church of Eng- 
land, with a few slight omissions, is performed in the Surrey 
Chapel, and in all the Methodist Chapels, whether Whitfield 



132 JOURNAL. 

or Wesleyan, which I have visited. Indeed the Methodists 
in this country have deviated very Uttle from the church in 
their forms of worship, which is conducted with as much 
regulariiy and decorum as in the churches of the establish- 
ment. What a contrast does it present, to the disorderly ex- 
citement often witnessed in the Methodist congregations in 
the United States ! But to return from this digression. — 
The service being over, Mr. Hill entered the pulpit — a vene- 
rable, good-looking man, apparently near eighty ; but like 
Moses,. " his eye is not dim, nor his natural force abated," 
of which he gave proofs by the occasional loudness of his 
voice. I had taken my seat in the free sittings near the 
door, among carters, coal-men and artisans, some of them of 
the lowest class ; and had a noble view before me. The 
chapel, which will accommodate two or three thousand per- 
sons, was quite full. It has sixteen sides ; and the seats are 
disposed with their backs to the walls, and look towards the 
pulpit, which stands near the centre. A gallery runs quite 
round the buildirig, and supports an organ said to be the most 
powerful in London ; although that of St. Sepulchre's, I 
should think, was not inferior. It is deficient, however, in 
richness, and mellowness of tone. Every one must acknow- 
ledge that the effect of numberless voices, aided by the over- 
powering sound of such an instrument, in the well-known 
anthem — " Father, how wide thy glories shine," — is deeply 
impressive : at least, I felt it to be so. After the singing, 
the preacher began something between an oration and a 
prayer, but intended for the latter. Sometimes his hands 
and eyes were uplifted in a posture of devotion ; and then 
he puts himself in a sermonizing attitude, and by transitions 
so sudden as to produce a very singular effect. In repeating 
the Lord's prayer, he seemed to be pronouncing a benedic- 
tion ; for he took a complete survey of his audience from 
one side to the other. 

His discourse partook of the same eccentric character. 
It was rather disconnected — was abundant in episodes and 
digressions, and the language was colloquial, and often vul- 
gar. One of his most remarkable talents is that of illustra. 



ROWLAND HILL. 133 

ting his topic by telling pertinent stories. "I was once 
crossing over, he said, from Dublin to Bristol, in a little ves- 
sel which carried a great deal of sail, but had no ballast. 
The captain said, we should do well enough if it did not come 
on to blow ; but that we should be badly off if it did ; and I 
was a good deal afraid myself, and was a mind to stop and 
take in some. But by the providence of God we got on very 
well, till one morning, about day-light, I heard a terrible cry 
on deck — " about ship !" And great need there was of it, 
too, for we were just on the point of running on a reef of 
rocks off St. David's Head, and were just able to , get the 
ship about in time to save our lives. So, you see, we often 
escape the dangers we are most afraid of, and fall into others 
of which we didn't dream. — But I'll tell you what, Christians ; 
don't put to sea as we did, without ballast.' Take in plenty of 
self-abasement and self -abhorrence ; and you'll find them to an- 
swer very well by way of ballast." The discourse, making al- 
lowance for numerous digressions, was about " the family of 
Christian graces," which he illustrated by allusions to a fami- 
ly of children. Some were modest, meek-eyed, and unobtru- 
sive ; as humility, patience, &c. Some bold and confident; 
as faith, joy, and zeal. " But there are two that men don't 
like at all ; and to tell the truth, they are rather ugly and hard- 
featured. I'll tell you what they are — they are mortification 
and self-denial." 

Speaking o? patience, he said he would tell us a story. "I 
once went into a shop where there was a clerk, a very pious, 
godly young man ; and while I was there, he was obliged to 
haul down the goods in piles from the shelves, and spread 
them out, and then lay them away again, and pull down 
more ; and all, for nothing in the world, but to gratify the cu- 
riosity and caprice of a parcel of idle, gossipping customers, 
who didn't want to buy any thing. — But I must tell you, by the, 
way, that this practice is very rude and uncivil. Some people 
don't care how much trouble they give. They'll go into a 
shop, and have piece after piece taken down and unrolled.; 
when they don't want to buy a farthing's worth. I'll tell you 
what, it's very rude and vexatious — I'd have you learn good 
12 



IM JOURNAL. 

manners. Well, seeing how much unnecessary trouble the 
young man was put to, I said to him, these people make you 
a great deal of labour — you must find it very vexatious to 
wait on such unreasonable folks. — O no, he said ; it does me 
good; it teaches me the grace of patience." Ladies who 
are fond of going a-shopping, may as well, perhaps, read over 
the good preacher's chapter on patience a second time. 

"The Socinian's prayer" — for he had a little of every 
thing in his discourse — he said, was, — " Lord, I thank thee 
that thou hast given me a fine reason, and a superior under- 
standing, and a great many other clever talents ; and for 
these things, O Lord, I thank thee." 

With preaching like this, does this eccentric minister at- 
tract vast congregations, amongst which are many of the bet- 
ter sort : and it cannot be doubted but that many, very many, 
have been turned from the evil of their ways, by the lively 
exhortations they have heard at the Surrey Chapel. I ob- 
served the deepest attention in many of the hard features and 
smutty faces around ine ; and in not a few instances, their 
clumsy fingers were employed in taking notes of the sermon. 
Do not examples like these lead to a suspicion, that the preva- 
lent style of preaching is too cold and refined, for those 
"who occupy the room of the unlearned" — that sermons 
are in general too stately for the audience — that preachers 
are too much afraid of having their literary taste criticised, 
when to convince and persuade ought to be their only anx- 
iety? 

On coming out of the chapel, I paused to look at the throng ; 
and could not but wonder how such a multitude could have 
been compressed into apparently so small a compass. 

In the afternoon, I went to St. Paul's, and as the service 
had already begun, I remained on the pavement without the 
choir. This is a complete lounging-place for a very mixed 
tribe of idlei-s, on a Sunday afternoon. Fops, dandies, guards- 
men, clerks, tradesmen, waiting maids, citizens' wives and 
daughters, and children, all jostling each other in great con- 
fViSion ; while the hum of their voices, and the echo of their 
^otytsteps, under the vast resounding dome, quite drown the 



CHRISTOPHER WREN. REV. C. JERRAM. IBS 

service. I soon grew sick of the scene, but had leisure to 
copy the Latin inscription over the gate of the choir, to the 
memory of the architect : — 

SUBTUS. CONDITUR. HUJUS. ECCLESI^. ET. URBIS. 
CoNDITOR. CHRISTOPHORUS. WREN. GUI. VIXIT. 
Annos. ultra, NONACINTA. NON. SIEI. SED. 
Bono, publico, lector, si. monumentum. requiris. 
circumspice. 

ObIIT. XXV. FEB. iETATIS. XCI. 

AN. MDCCXXIII. 

"Beneath, Ues buried the body of Christopher Wren, the 
builder of this church and city ; who lived upwards of ninety 
years, not for himself, but for the public good. Reader, if 
you seek for his monument, look around." The city, as well 
as the Cathedral of St. Paul's, was restored, after the great 
fire, by the same architect ; which renders the last sentiment 
in the inscription peculiary happy. 

I went one day, by invitation from the Secretary of the 
Church Missionary Society, to attend a meeting of their Com- 
«iittee, at the Society's rooms in Salisbury Square. HerO 
were twenty or thirty of the most influential clergymen and 
laymen, sitting around a table covered with correspendence 
and other documents. A very pleasing, sensible, man sat 
next to me, whom I soon discovered to be the Rev. Charles 
Jerram, the author of a well known treatise on infant baptism. 
He was not aware that his treatise had been honoured by re- 
publication in America — a testimony to its merit, which could 
not fail to be gratifying to the author. A severe domestic 
affliction, the death of a most promising daughter, has quite 
bowed him down to the earth ; but his grief has found a so- 
lace in writing a sketch of her life, of which he was kind 
enough to present me with a copy. — One has only to attend a 
meeting of a London committee, to appreciate the advantages 
of puncfuality and method, in the transaction of business. Al- 
most Vvhile the clock is striking, the members enter and take 
their seats : the business of the meeting is entered upon at 
once — every thing else is excluded — there is no rambling con- 
versation on irrelevant subjects ; and the meeting is dissolved, 
the moment the business is dispatched. What an immense 



# 



136 JOURNAL. 

saving of time results from a strict regard to punctuality, and 
an exclusive attention to the matters in hand ! 



CHAPTER XIII. 



ALDENHAM ABBEY SIR C. POLE MR. MARSDEN REV. MR. CROWTHER 

THE TABERNACLE SCENE AT LINCOLN'S INN: — JUDGES OF THE COURTS 

WESTMINSTER HALL LONDON DOCKS EAST CHEAP GOLDSMITH. 

An invitation to spend a few days at Aldenham Abbey, the 
country residence of Admiral Sir Charles Pole, was gladly 
accepted, and I set off one afternoon in his carriage, which 
he had kindly ordered to call for me. We trundled along 
the Edgeware road through a fog so dense, that hedge house 
and tree were alike invisible. Finding so little use for my 
eyes, I yielded to the influence of the easy rolling motion, 
and slumbered away a part of the distance to Edgeware, 
eight miles from the city ; a little beyond which, the road be- 
gan to ascend a moderate eminence. Here I emerged from 
the misty medium into the welcome rays of the sun, an old 
and valued acquaintance I had not seen for many days. De- 
scending the hill on the other side, I was soon lost again in 
the fog, and saw no more till the carriage drove up in front 
of the turretted mansion. 

Aldenham Abbey is a modern Gothic structure of tolera- 
bly ample dimensions, situated on the side of a hill gently 
sloping towards the Colne, which winds along through the 
valley below, and waters a succession of fine meadows dotted 
here and there with trees. The prospect up the valley is 
terminated by the projecting ridge, on which reposes the 
mighty bulk of St. Albans, described in one of the preceding 
pages. It is about five or six miles distant, and is distinct- 
ly visible in a clear day. To the south, the prospect is less 
extensive, it being soon lost in the windings of the valley, and 
the little patches of wood by which its sides are covered. 



SIR CHARLES POLE. 137 

Partly in the rear of the mansion, and further up the hill, 
is a labyrinth of gravelled walks twisting around among thick- 
ets of laurel and holly, intermixed with the elm, beech, and 
oak, which compose a great portion of an English forest. 
This piece of ground is the paradise of the hares, for whose 
accommodation, or perhaps for obtaining gravel, large exca- 
vations have been made, affording abundant shelter under the 
thickets of broom and ivy for the long-eared game. As the 
laws of the Abbey do not admit of their being disturbed in 
these retreats, they may be seen by scores on a sunny morn- 
ing, playing their gambols, and frequently venturing quite up 
to the windows. Under a similar protection, the pheasants 
make holyday on the lawn in front of the house, in coveys of 
a dozen or more. The English cock-pheasant is one of the 
most beautiful of birds, both in shape and plumage. The 
baronet complained that his neighbourhood to London expo- 
sed his game to the rapacity of poachers, who make sad hav- 
oc among his pheasants with their air-guns and other devi- 
ces for destroying game ; but there is no help for it, as his 
good nature will not allow him to have recourse to " steel- 
traps and spring-guns," for the defence of his premises. 

The interior of the abbey is fitted up in a style of comfort- 
able elegance, having plenty of spacious and richly furnished 
rooms. 

The Baronet is a sensible, well-informed, religious sea- 
officer, who is taking his repose in this quiet retreat, after 
having served his country in all quarters of the globe. He 
says little of his own exploits, unless he is led to speak of 
them by the manifestation of a desire on the part of his guests 
to know his history. He was a captain in the navy during 
the latter part of the American war, and commanded the Hus- 
sar frigate at the time when she was wrecked at Hurl-gate, 
in 1780. On my alluding to the supposed treasures which 
went down with the vessel, — the article which, it would 
seem, our Yankees have been long diving for, — he evaded 
my indirect enquiry, by saying, that he had been repeatedly 
desired to recollect whether there was not money on board. 

He said the accident happened in consequence of the sudden 
12* 



1^8 JOURNAL 

djing away of the wind at the critical moment ; when the 
vessel was seized by the current and drifted on the rocks. 

A very agreeable circle, including some visiters at the Ab- 
bey, assembles every morning around the breakfast-table ; 
after which, there is a general dispersion, — each one follow- 
ing his own fancy in the choice of amusements to pass away 
the time. Some go to walk, and some to ride : the unfin- 
ished volume of St. Ronan's Well is resumed, or friends in 
town are epistolized. One of the daughters of Sir Charles, 
a lively, beautiful young lady, has the misfortune to be deaf, 
though not dumb. Her mother, following the directions of 
the Abbe' Sicard, who with his pupils Massol and Le Clerc, 
once passed some weeks in the family, has taught her to ar- 
ticulate with a good deal of distinctness ; while she is able 
to comprehend every word addressed to her, by watching the 
lips of the speaker. 

Among the domestic arrangements at the Abbey, family 
devotions are not forgotten. Before the hour of rest, the 
cushions are laid — the servants fill the hall ; and the head of 
the family reads, with much solemity, evening prayers to his 
whole household. From what I have been able to learn, I 
am induced to believe that this religious custom prevails to 
a great extent, among the higher classes in England : — I 
wish as much could be said for our leading political men 
on the other side of the water. 

The Admiral invited me one morning to walk about 
his grounds. He keeps a great many hands employed, in 
forming gravelled walks and making other improvements ; 
partly to gratify his own taste, and partly from the humane 
motive of giving employment to the neighbouring poor. To- 
day, we found them replenishing the ice-house with a crust 
about an inch thick — the only ice which has been formed 
this winter worth collecting. It is now the middle of Janua- 
ry, and no snow has yet appeared in this part of the island. 
The hedges and shrubbery are covered with a thick hoar- 
frost formed by the congelation of the mist ; and would look 
beautifully, if the sun would but shine. 

Our next visit was to the farm-yard, which was well jstoised 



♦ MR. MARSDEN. 139 

with cattle, and in fine order. Sir Charles prefers the Alder- 
ny breed of cows on account of the richness of the cream, 
and the light figure of the animal, whose tread is, on that ac- 
count, less injurious to the turf of the meadows. An Ameri- 
can farmer might smile at the last mentioned ground of 
preference ; but in a country where land is so valuable, and 
whose soil is softened by an almost perpetual moisture, the 
precaution is not altogether an unphilosophical one, I have 
never been tempted to walk in an English meadow, without 
paying for the gratification, by getting my feet thoroughly 
soaked. The cattle intended for Smithfield are of the Dev- 
onshire breed, distinguished by their small taper horns, small, 
clean limbs, and general elegance of shape. 

It was proposed to extend our walk to the village of Alden- 
ham, about a mile and a half distant, to call on Mr. Marsden, 
a gentleman whose early years were passed in India. Mr- 
Marsden availed himself of the opportunity he enjoyed, as an 
officer in the service of the government, to dive deep into 
the mysteries of Oriental lore ; and the result has been, the 
compilation of a Malay grammar and dictionary, a laborious 
work — a history of Sumatra — a translation of the travels of 
Marco Polo, the Venetian, in India, with copious notes and 
illustrations — and a work on Indian coins, of which he show- 
ed us a large collection, both of gold and silver. With all the 
enthusiasm of an Oriental scholar, Mr. M. considers the study 
of the Greek and Roman classics as nothing, in comparison 
with researches into the literature of Asia ; and his fine li- 
brary, opening to the southern sun by a vast bow window, is 
stored with the choicest productions of the learned in the east. 
He was so polite as to offer to introduce me at one. of the 
dinners of the Royal Society, of which he is a member, on 
his return to town — a favour of which I shall naturally avail 
myself at the first opportunity. We returned to the Abbey 
in time for dinner ; and on the following day I took leave of 
my hospitable entertainer, and got into the chariot to return 
to the city. The day being remarkably fine, I enjoyed a 
good view of the country as I passed along, which presented 
jio very striking features. The small village of Idlestree 



140 JOURNAL. 

occurred first on the road ; and from the summit of the hill, 
where a few days before, I had enjoyed a temporary emer- 
sion from the cloud of fog, I had a commanding view of the 
landscape. The fields look surprisingly green for the mid- 
die of winter, and in a latitude of fifty-one and a half degrees. 
Edgeware is a long, straggling village of shabby houses ; in 
the vicinity of which is Cannon Park, of which I could see 
but little from the road. 

Sunday, January 18. — I attended church this morning at 
Christ Church, Newgate Street ; and had the pleasure of 
hearing the Rector, the Rev. Mr. Crowther. I could not but 
remark the strong personal resemblance between him and 
the venerable and pious prelate of the Eastern Diocese, only 
the former is somewhat younger. His published sermon on 
the death of the Princess Charlotte is an eloquent produc- 
tion. Probably no event ever happened, which called forth 
such an amount of true pulpit eloquence and pathos, as the 
death of that amiable princess, in whom the hopes of a whole 
nation were centred. The sermon of the Rector to-day con- 
tained nothing particularly striking. Some passages were 
eloquent — all of it was in a strain of evangelical piety, and 
was delivered with much animation. As on a former occa- 
sion, the congregation was very large — the responses full and 
animated ; and the singing of the great number of charity 
boys so loud as to be almost painful, even in this large 
church. — When the service was over, I went to St. Bi'ide's 
in Fleet-Street, where I heard the latter part of a discourse 
from an elderly preacher. Here, too, was a very full con- 
gregation, assembled in a spacious and elegant church. 

In the afternoon, curiosity attracted me to the " Taberna- 
cle," in Totteham Court Road, so famous in the annals of 
Whitfield's ministry. The Tabernacle was erected by him, 
and is a very plain, square, brick building, with an awkward 
projection in front, intended for a vestibule. I found a mo- 
derately large congregation assembled, principally of the 
humbler classes. The church service was performed, with 
no other irregularity than that of omitting the Absolution, 
and the first lesson. Before the sermon, the preacher, a 



SCENE AT LINCOLN'S INN. 



141 



dark looking man, made a long prayer extempore, in which 
he introduced " the dear youth who had spoken the word to 
them that morning," praying that he might have abundant 
success in the metropoUs. The sermon, among some good 
things, was too full of " vain repetitions," and was followed 
by another extemporaneous prayer. It is evident that the 
spirit of Whitfield no longer dwells in the Tabernacle. 

It is customary with the judges to assemble at the rooms of 
the Lord Chancellor for breakfast, on the morning of the 
opening of the courts; and to proceed thence to the places of 
their respective sittings. Wishing to have a sight of these 
venerable supporters of the British Themis, I repaired on the 
morning of the 23d to Lincoln's-Inn-Hall, under the escort of 
a barrister, through whose interest admission was procured 
me into the ante-room, whence I had a very good view of the 
assembly through the glass doors. Between thirty and forty 
of these administrators of justice were walking up and down 
the hall, in their long robes and full-bottomed wigs ; the judg- 
es being distinguished from the sergeants, &c., by their 
ermine trimmings and hoods. I soon recognized the stately, 
venerable form of the Lord Chancellor ; and Baron Graham, 
now eighty years of age, but as sprightly as the youngest of 
them ; Bayley, Abbott the Vice-Chancellor, and others of the 
bench, were pointed out, and with some difficulty I recogni- 
zed Mr. Chief Justice Park, under the disguise of his robes 
of office. Mr. Scarlett, with his full portly form ; Sergeant 
Vaughan, Copley, and Wetherell the new solicitor, were also 
among the guests. They all appeared to be in good humour ; 
and as a number of promotions have lately happened, many 
congratulations passed on the occasion. Few of them were 
rotund in their persons ; but on the contrary, most like Cassius 
"had a lean and hungry look" — were wrinkled and care-worn, 
and advanced in years. Cakes and wine were brought in by 
servants in black, with enormous bunches of black riband on 
the queues of their wigs, who presented their refreshments 
with ceremonious respect, but which were very lightly tasted. 
The bays were drawn up in the yard on both sides of the 
hall ; and a little before one, their Lordships entered their 



142 JOURNAL. 

carriages, and moved on in procession to Westminster Hall. 
On the whole, there is something extremely imposing in this 
attention to forms ; and I am greatly mistaken, if justice is not 
more respected in a gown, bands and wig, than in the ordina- 
ry dress of a man of business. I repaired to the court of 
Common Pleas, where the judges, Messrs. Park, GifFord and 
Burrows, soon arrived, and proceeded to business without fur- 
ther ceremony. Sergeant Vaughan, a tall, hard featured 
man, made some very sensible observations ; but as the plead- 
ings were not likely to commence soon, and the crowd was 
annoying, I made my retreat, and wept for a few moments 
to the court of King's Bench, where also I found nothing to 
detain me. 

One cannot avoid feeling surprise, that so important a court 
as that of Common Pleas should hold its sittings in a room not 
much larger than a gentleman's drawing room. It is barely 
large enough to accommodate the court. Twenty or thirty 
persons may thrust themselves in, if they have no dread of 
aching bones. On my alluding once to this want of more 
spacious accommodations in the court rooms, as well as in the 
houses of parliament, it was observed, that it was thought 
sufficient that the proceedings were public — the doors were 
kept open, and those interested could attend ; but that great 
inconvenience would I'esult from inviting the attendance of 
all the idle and curious ones about the metropolis, by provi- 
ding Ihem with spacious and easy accommodations. — The 
court of King's Bench holds its sittings at present in a tempo- 
I'aiy apartment adjoining Westminster Hall, in which the 
white-washed girths and rafters present a very humble style of 
decorations for a bed of criminal justice. The interior of 
Westminster Hall is now undergoing thorough repairs, as its 
exterior has already been renovated under the direction of 
Wyatt the architect. Independently of its historical associa- 
tions, there is nothing about it particular^ striking, except its 
size. It is said to exceed in dimensions any room in Europe, 
unsupported hj pillars ; — its length being 270 feet by a breadth 
of 74. The Hall itself is paved, and open through the whole 
extent; and the entrance into the courts of justice is through 



LONDON DOCKS. 143 

doors opening into the hall. An unfinished pile of buildings 
attached to the hall on the west sile, intended for courts and 
offices, by a most preposterous taste, is constructed in a Gre- 
cian style, presenting as ridiculous a contrast to the architec- 
ture of Westminster hall as can well be imagined. 

I went one day, accompanied by a friend, to take a view of 
the London Docks. These have been so often described 
that it is needless to go into details which must be uninteres- 
ting to most readers. It is really a noble sight to look at this 
vast production of human industry, designed to facilitate the 
operations of commerce, and the accumulation of wealth. 
An artificial lake covering 20 acres of ground, and capable of 
receiving 500 vessels at once — a piazza running round the 
whole, to protect the cargoes from the weather while they are 
discharging — ranges of warehouses, seemingly capable of re- 
ceiving the productions of a whole empire — enormous cranes 
reaching out to lift the bulky articles from the holds, and land 
them on the quays — and piles of merchandize from every 
region and clime under heaven — what surprising monuments 
of industry, and wealth, and art are here ! Through the in- 
terest of an American Captain, we were allowed to take a gen- 
eral survey of the tobacco ware-house ; and we promenaded 
through aisles and passages leading between 16,000 hhds. 
of tobacco under one roof. The house is capable of contain- 
ing 10 or 12,000 more. The roof is supported by cast iron 
pillars, and the interior is illuminated by sky-lights. After 
satiating our vision and regaling our nostrils with this abun- 
dance of the Indian weed, we descended into the wine-vaults 
beneath. Here, each of us was provided with a light, and a 
guide went before to pilot us through the dark labyrinths ; 
and before we emerged, we made a grand tour among 22,000 
pipes of wine, arranged over an area of four acres and a half. 
Every part of the wine-vaults is under ground, and vaulted 
over head with brick arches resting on pillars of granite. 
What an immense accumulation of these tAvo articles of lux- 
ury is collected here ! The annual rent paid by government 
for the tobacco ware-house alone, is said to exceed £15,000 



144 . JOURNAL. 

sterling ; and that of the vaults cannot be less. The range 
we have described occupies only one end of the basin. 

On our return, we took Great East Cheap in our way, to 
look at the site of the Boar's Head tavern, kept by Mistress 
Quickly in the days of merry Jack FalstafT. The original 
building has been pulled down, and another erected in its 
place, which is now occupied by " Whyte and Son, Perfu- 
mers." But the sign, a boar's head in relief on a tablet of 
stone, bearing the date of 1688, has been inserted in the wall 
of the recent building. The boar must have been wholly a 
graminiverous animal, judging by the teeth which the artist 
thought proper to give him ; and the date is too recent to be- 
long to the age of Will Shakspeare, who died 50 years be- 
fore. The identity of the relique with the actual token of 
Mistress Quickly's vocation is therefore somewhat doubtful. 
The general appearance of East Cheap, narrow, dirty, though 
better built than in the time of the dramatic bard, accords 
very well with the idea one forms of the scene of Hal's mad 
frolics with his boon companions ; and the neighbourhood yet 
looks as though it might furnish a Doll Tear-sheet or two, to 
enliven the merriment of a roistering club of tipplers. 

To find the house where Goldsmith wrote his " Vicar of 
Wakefield," you proceed along the " Old Bailey" almost to 
the north end — turn to the left through " Green Arbour Court," 
which brings you into a little dirty sort of a square, where, 
after breaking your legs over divers washing-tubs, and en- 
countering all sorts of unsavory smells, and tribes of half-na- 
ked children which would have astonished Malthus, you grope 
your way to a little opening, on the south side, down " Break- 
neck-stairs ;" over which, in the highest attic "poor Goldy" 
pursued his lucubrations over a pot of two-penny, when the 
state of his finances admitted of that luxury. The name of 
the stairs was not bestowed amiss, as they lead down a de- 
scent of 40 feet of most portentous steepness, where the infal- 
lible consequence of a mis-step would be a landing in " Sear 
coal-lane" at the bottom. On the whole, it must be confessed 
that the author of the Vicar was, at that period, very humbly 
lodged, 



REV. MR. IRVING. 145 

We finished our rambles by a call on our countryman Per- 
kins in Fleet street. We found his engine partly deranged, 
for the purposeof making experiments in propelling bullets by 
jets of steam, in which he succeeded in some trials made a few 
days ago. He invited us to renew our call next week, when 
the engine will be again in operation. Whatever may be 
thought of his improvements in the mode of generating and ap- 
plying steam, his enthusiasm cannot fail to amuse. " In five 
years, said he, there will not be a yard of canvass on the ocean, 
nor a pound of gun-powder burnt in battle. Ships will be pro- 
pelled, and battles fought, by steam alone." Mr. Perkins is a 
plain man, modest and unaffected in his manners. His in- 
ventions in mechanics have already attracted the attention, 
and procured him the notice, of some of the most exalted per- 
sonages in the kingdom. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



CALEDONIAN CHAPEL REV. EDWARD IRVING BRITISH MUSEUM EX- 
TORTIONS OF ENGLISH SERVANTS EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN OBSER- 
VER DIORAMA — ARCH-DEACON BLOMFJELD EARL S. BARCLAY AND 

COMPANT's BREWERY. 

" Have you heard Mr. Irving preach ?" — is a question 
which every stranger hears, before he has been a fortnight in 
London. Having been provided, through the kindness of a 
friend, with a passport to the interior of the Caledonian Chap- 
el, signed by " Elder Dunwooddie," and which, in compliment 
I suppose to my profession, and my being a foreigner, admit- 
ted me to the Elder's own pew, I went to Hatton Garden a 
little before eleven, and found the avenues to the Chapel 
already thronged with eager expectants. The Chapel stands 
in a paved court a little back of the street ; and is accessible 
only through a narrow arched passage. Those who had 
purchased tickets, left them here, and proceeded to the Chapel 
13 



146 JOURNAL, 

to find a seat as they could : my ticket admitted me at once to 
the chapel door, where it was a second time examined ; and 
again at the head of the gallery stairs ; after which I was 
conducted to my seat in the front gallery. It was yet too 
early for the preacher, and I had leisure to survey the gay 
scene of confusion below, which did not in the remotest de- 
gree suggest that I was in the house of God, and in the midst 
of an assembly congregated for divine worship. Seats, 
aisles, and stair cases were already full ; and the whispering, 
and moving, and bustle, and ceremonious opening of doors, 
and the gallantry displayed in escorting the fair through the 
crowd, were more like the prelude to an oratorio, or a fourth 
of July oration, than the decent preparation for the solemni- 
ties of prayer and praise. About forty boys in the Highland 
costumo, with bare knees, were ranged on elevated seats 
around and in front of the pulpit. 

Mr. Irving at length appeared, and took his seat. He is 
tall and broad in his person ; and every thing above his 
shoulders is singular. An incredible quantity of black, bushy 
hair, parted on the top of his head, and covering ears, neck, 
shoulders, and one half the forehead as low as the eye-brow, 
while the polished marble of the other half is studiously kept 
exposed by an occasional delicate brush of the handkerchief 

whiskers of terrific size and blackness, lying in rolls on the 

cheeks, and covering the chin and throat with their thick 
matting — a long, pale, bloodless visage, and eyes looking far 
asunder — are the features of the upper man, on which the 
attention of a stranger is fixed with a species of wonder, 
whether he is not contemplating a captain of grenadiers 
in the habiUments of a parson. A few stanzas of the old 
Scotch version were followed by a prayer of moderate length, 
in which the speaker tried all the keys, and tones, and modu- 
lations of his fine voice, which is certainly very deep, musical, 
and flexible. Then a chapter was read, accompanied very 
improperly with attitudes and gestures, as in the delivery of 
an oration ; then singing again ; and after that, the text — 
" not forsaking the assembling yourselves together." The 
discourse was written out at large arid read, though with con- 



REV. MR. IRVING. 147 

siderable freedom ; and this I am told is Mr. Irving's con- 
stant practice. Both the style of composition, and of deliv- 
ery, were singular in no ordinary degree. Of the former, 
the following may be taken as a specimen, as it dwells in my 
recollection. 

" The student beiaketh himself to the convenience of a 
college cell, and shutteth himself out from day's garish eye, 
that he may give himself, his whole mind and strength, to the 
pursuits which his soul loveth. He is enclosed within walls, 
wherewhh our provident fore-fathers caused their places of 
learning to be hedged in ; and restrained from intercourse 
with that part of the world which lieth without, by gates and 
portals, in strength like unto those which defend a besieged 
city. Here, he giveth himself up unto profitable and delight- 
some converse with the spirits of olden time ; he knoweth no 
luxury like that of delving in the mine of knowledge ; he 
paleth it over the midnight oil, and beholdeth without con- 
cern his bodily substance attenuate and waste away — neglect- 
eth utterly the outer man, that the inner man may be fed and 
satisfied with the aliment of wisdom, which is better than 
gold. He burieth himself under the massy tomes of science : 
his whole soyl and mind, yea, all the power of the spiritual 
man, goeth forth unto the acquisition of that, which the sages 
of wise antiquity have left for his advantage : he becometh 
a very miser in the merchandise of wisdom ; he rolleth and 
wrappeth himself like a very book-worm as he is, in the 
parchments of his cell ; and here he remaineth, not for days 
and weeks only, but through months and years, in this chry- 
salis state ; until at length he bursted forth, radiant with the 
pearls of knowledge, and beautified with the gems of wis- 
dom, and enriched with the treasures of the lore of other 
days." 

I do not pretend to say that some parts of the discourse 
were not of a more edifying character than the preceding ; 
but the affectation, in sentiment and expression — the jumble K. 
of strange metaphors — the starts, and grimaces, and study of 
theatrical effect, exceeded all reasonable bounds. Mr. Irving 
is evidently a great admirer of Dr. Chalmer's method of dif- 



148 



JOURNAL. 



fusive illustration ; but the copy falls far short of the original 
— to which it bears much the same relation, that counsellor 
Philip's eariier speeches do to those of his master Curran — a 
bad copy of a bad prototype. It was observable that, while 
in his prayer, Mr. Irving's pronunciation was almost purely 
English ; in the animated parts of his discourse, the broad 
Scotch accent became predominant. 

His notoriety in the metropolis has passed its zenith, and 
may now be considered as on the wane. While he had the 
discretion to keep his manuscripts out of the hands of the 
publishers, all things went on well ; but in an evil hour for 
his fame, he was tempted to lay his queer tropes and affected 
diction before the public. The merciless critics now found 
something tangible in the shape of " Arguments and Ora- 
tions," nor did they fail of pushing their advantage to the 
utmost. Besides this, the novelty of the phenomenon soon 
began to wear off; and the avenues to Hatton garden are, 
at present, rarely graced by liveried footmen, and carriages 
blazing with coronets. The performance I witnessed in the 
Caledonian chapel exhibited very little which is edifying, or 
proper in a house of worship. It seemed to be more the 
study of the preacher to challenge admiration, than to call 
sinners to repentance. Of his own piety and honesty of pur- 
pose, I do not presume to judge : of the tendency of his 
preaching, I should think there could be but one opinion, 
amongst inteUigent religious men. It is impossible for the 
lower orders of the Scotch, who are his stated hearers, to 
catch more than here and there a glimmering of sense 
through his cloudy phraseology ; while, to minds of a high- 
er order, he must appear rather in the light of a clerical 
mountebank, than of an honest ambassador of the Lord Je- 
sus Christ. 

In the afternoon of the same day I went to St. Giles', 
where I found the church full, and the pulpit occupied by a 
Mr. Sheppard ; who preached without notes, and with much 
zeal and feeling. 

A few days after, I devoted a number of hours to the Brit- 
sh Museum, which were barely sufficient to allow of a very 



BRITISH MUSEUM. 



149 



general survey of the immense variety of curiosities collect, 
ed in Montague-house. The result of a first visit to such an 
institution must always be unsatisfactory ; it being impossible 
to carry away distinct impressions, where so many objects, 
and those so rare and curious, solicit attention. The gallerj- 
of marbles appeared to me not altogether proper for the indis- 
criminate admission of visitors of both sexes ; and it is im- 
possible to say how far the taste of the British fair may have 
been disciplined among the Elgin statues, for the erection of 
the monument in Hyde-park to the honour of their heroic 
countryman. Indeed it was not difficult to perceive, that the 
ladies here felt a little out of place. Having wearied my 
attention among minerals and manuscripts, and sarcophagi 
from Eg3'pt and pottery from Herculaneum, and the spoils of 
the Parthenon, and statuary in every stage of mutilation and 
decay, I returned to my lodgings. The Museum is the only 
institution I believe in the metropolis, to which the public 
are admitted free of expense. Visiters not only pay nothing, 
but are desired, by printed placards hung up in the ante-room, 
to give nothing to the servants by way of gratuity. Yet even 
here, I had money extorted from me ; and in a manner so 
characteristic of the beggarly race of public menials gene- 
rally, that it may serve by way of specimen. Ah uno; disce 
omnes. My umbrella was taken from me by the porter, as 1 
entered, who gave me a slip of paper marked with a number, 
but without signifying what use I was to make of it. I ought 
to have hung it on my umbrella, and then called for the num- 
ber when I came out. When I asked for it, the wily rogue af- 
fected great surprise at my negligence — said that it would take 
him a long time to find it among so many ; and was spinning 
a long string of rigmarole, which I cut short by picking it out 
myself. His next attack was on my pride. He began to 
talk so loud about " gentlemens' refusing to pay for the trouble 
they gave," that, feeling the awkwardness of my situation 
among a number of auditors, I threw him a sixpence, with 
about the same feeling of kindness that one would throw a 
bone at a snarling dog : and repented of it the next moment. 
I mention this anecdote, because it illustrates a trait of charac- 
13* 



150 JOURNAL. 

ter which runs through the whole race of public servants and 
understrappers of every grade. They are shameless beggars, 
from the highest to the lowest ; and are versed in a hundred 
low expedients to extort money, which they generally prac- 
tise with success. In America, when the traveller has paid 
his bill, there is an end of the matter. He may button up 
his great coat, and step into the stage : but not so here. He 
pays roundly for his cup of washy tea, his lodging, and his 
breakfast ; but there are still other demands on his purse. 
The waiter, the chamber-maid, the porter and the shoe-black, 
have all their separate claims, which they well know how to 
urge with effect. Escaping from these perescutions, he 
mounts the coach, and at the end of a twenty miles' drive, the 
coachman claims his shilling, and another must be given to 
a fat, ale -drinking fellow, called a guard ; and all this, in ad- 
dition to the regular fare. In many situations, the servants 
receive no wages whatever ; in some, they even pay premi- 
ums for their places, and live on the gratuities they extort 
from travellers. — But John Bull puts up with all this, with the 
dogged kind of acquiescence with which he would submit to 
the decrees of fate. It is difierent, however, with his trans- 
atlantic cousin ; until a few ineffectual trials at holding his 
purse-strings have convinced him of the utter inutility of the 
attempt. 

The editor of the Christian Observer, the Rev. Mr. Wilks, 
is extensively known among all denominations of christians in 
America, by his labours in conducting that deservedly popular 
woi'k. During one of the interviews I had with him in his li- 
brary, he observed, that he had been for ten years serving a 
curacy, which barely yielded him enough to pay his house- 
rent and taxes. He has been now seven years the editor of 
the most popular and useful religious publication in the world ; 
and the trial has proved him equal to the task. " The matter, 
said he, has been all concocted in this little room, through the 
whole of that period." Of his " Essay" on the influence of a 
moral life on the clerical character, which has been re-print- 
ed and widely circulated in the United States, he remarked, 
that not fifty copies had been sold in England. I explained 



DIORAMA. 151 

it in the following way : In England, the quantity of new books 
and pamphlets every year thrown out from the press is so 
great, that many good things are often buried in the rubbish 
of the booksellers — few having the leisure to pick them out : 
while in America, we select the best for re-publication, which 
commonly meet with a ready sale. We get English litera- 
ture and theology, with the indifferent portions sifted out — 
the rest, we re-print and read. Mr. W. is a man of very 
modest and unassuming manners; but at the same time, high- 
ly conversable and communicative. Though strongly attach- 
ed from principle to the Established Church, there is nothing 
of the rancour of party in his disposition. 

One of the most attractive wonders now in London is the 
Diorama, exhibited in Regent's Park, which certainly ex- 
ceeds in splendor all the productions of the pencil which have 
fallen under my notice. The building, in which the pictures 
are exhibited, has been erected at an expense of more than 
£20,000. I paid my two shillings, and ascended the stairs 
to the amphitheatre, the place whence the pictures are seen to 
the best advantage. This is a circular room, forty or fifty feet 
in diameter, the floor of which slopes at a considerable angle, 
and is furnished with seats for the spectators. Light is ad- 
mitted from above, through a screen of cloth painted in tran- 
sparent colours. On the side of the room towards which the 
slope descends, there is an opening in the partition extending 
round nearly a quarter of the circle, through which, you look 
down into one of the most beautiful, quiet valleys of the Alps 
" The Vale of Sarnen." A small lake sleeps in the deep- 
est part of the vale, and stretches away round a lofty prom- 
ontory of a mountain, where it is lost to the eye in a soft blue 
haze of the atmosphere. A little hamlet, with its rustic 
church and spire, is quietly seated in a nook of the bank ; be- 
hind which, and on every side on the lake, the ground rises 
rather abruptly, and soon begins to assume the bold and rug- 
ged forms of Alpine scenery. The softer and less precipitous 
sides of the hills are covered with patches of forest, flocks 
and herds ; and here and there appears a shepherd's dwelling. 
A brawling stream breaks out from the glaciers above, with 



153 



JOURNAL. 



the fury of a mountain torrent, and scatters its foam down the 
precipices — the water being actually in motion. In the dis- 
tance, two or three lofty peaks project their snow-clad sum* 
mits high in the air. At one time, the whole valley, with its 
scenery of rocks and woods and waters, lies basking in the 
light of an unclouded sun. Then, the shadow of a strip of 
cloud is seen flying across it ; or, a shade is gradually drawn 
over the whole, so deep as to render objects scarcely visible. 
Sun-shine again breaks forth on the hills ; and cottage, tower, 
and tree stand revealed to sight. Now, you barely discern 
the dim outline of the distant mountains — their snowy summits 
being thrown into the shade by a passing cloud ; but light 
soon returns, and the glaciers re-assume their dazzling white- 
ness. In short, you seem actually to stand on one of the ele- 
vated crags which hang over the vale : you are no longer in 
London ; you are in Switzerland — looking down into one of 
its most retired and picturesque valleys, and surrounded by 
the gigantic forms of Alpine mountains and precipices. 

A bell rings, and the whole amphitheatre, with its two hun- 
dred spectators, begins to revolve ; and presently, you have 
before you the interior of Canterbury Cathedral. Never was 
optical illusion more complete. I tried every possible way 
to possess myself of the feeling, that the scene before me was 
a painting on a plain surface ; but without success. The 
long vista of columns and arches ; the windows of stained 
glass ; the partial light streanang through, and illuminating 
in patches the portions of architecture on which it falls ; the 
whole perspective, in short, and the disposition of light and 
shade, are so natural, as to take wholly away the impression 
that it is nothing but a picture. 

These popular productions are the v/ork of Messrs. Bouton 
and Daguerre, two Frenchmen, who have been labouring at 
them for years, and have expended a large fortune in getting 
them ready for the public. They are now reaping their re- 
ward. On a fair day, a long line of coaches may be seen 
drawn up in front of the Diorama ; to say nothing of the 
thousands of plebeians who daily resort to the exhibition. 
People of all nations, too, may be met with in " the amphi- 



DR. BLOMFIELD. 153 

theatre ;" which is no unfavourable place for studying nation- 
al peculiarities. A FEenchman exclaims, with hands and 
eyes uplifted — Ah ! how beautiful — how grand ! and walks 
away without thinking any more of the matter. An English- 
man criticises the perspective and the colouring in silence ; 
while a Yankee wonders how the variation in the light and 
shadow is produced, and longs to get behind the curtain to 
examine the machinery. 

On the following Sundaji', I repaired in the morning to St. 
Botolph's, Bishop's-gate street, of which Archdeacon Blom- 
field* is rector. He is reckoned one of the best preachers 
in London, as well as one of the first Grecians in the country. 
There was a large and attentive congregation in the church, 
and a numerous company of communicants surrounded the 
chancel. I was fortunate enough to hear the Archdeacon ; 
but observed nothing in his discourse worthy of particular 
commendation. It wanted method; and, like many of the 
sermons I have heard in and about London, was deficient in 
strong and manly thought. There is a barrenness of inven- 
tion in almost all of them — a poverty of matter, which may be 
traced, in part, to a radically deficient theological education. 
The preachers have literature in abundance, which they lay 
up at the universities ; they rarely offend against the laws of 
correct writing ; but they have not theology enough. The 
sermon I heard was pious and practical ; and towards the con- 
clusion, impressive. The subject was, " the path of the just, 
a shining light." 

In the afternoon, I tried to get admission at two or three 
churches ; but not knowing their hours of worship, I found 
them shut. I then followed a party of ladies and gentlemen 
round a number of squares, in hopes of being thus piloted to 
some house of God, whose gates were open. But they came, 
at last, to a halt ; and the question I overheard as I passed, — 
" My dear, have we not walked far enough ?" undeceived me 
as to the purpose of my guides. I next fell into the wake of 
a tall, aged man, whom I perceived, by his curled wig and 
shovel-hat, to be a clegyman. He shoved his stately figure 

* Afterwards Bishop of Chester, and now Bishop of London. 



154 JOURNAL. 

through the crowd at a most rapid rate ; but after he Jiad led 
me a breathless chase through half the city, I lost him — in a 
hotel in Hanover Square. But I had got within the sound of 
St. George's bells, and entered the church. Among the an- 
noyances I experienced here, were, the noisy entrance of 
the charity children, who kept a continual buzzing till the 
service began ; and a pro-di-gious long and tiresome volun- 
tary by an organist of no unrivalled powers. Secure of ari 
audience for once, he seemed determined to make them hear 
him out. It would be irreverent to class the sermon under the 
head of annoyances ; but the man in spectacles really ac- 
quitted himself very little to the edification of his hearers. 

At the table of Lady S in Portman Square, I met a 

small family party, among whom were Earl S and his 

lady. The Earl is a lively, sociable gentleman, well inform- 
ed, and without any stiffness or reserve in his manners. He 
was so polite as to offer me a ticket of admission to the House 
of Lords on Wednesday, which however, proved useless in 
the event, as the house was not in session on that day. 
" When you see the House of Commons, he remarked, you'll 
think they are indeed the popular branch of government — 
they are a turbulent set." The king is to open Parliament 
by commission, the gout holding his royal person a prisoner 
at Windsor. 

A few days after, my friend Mr. B. called, and proposed a 
walk to Barclay & Perkins' brewing establishment, on the 
Surrey side of the Thames. It has been too often described 
to need a repetition here. It covers five or six acres ; and 
the scale of operations is indeed stupendous. The three cop- 
per boilers hold four hundred barrels each ; and the ebulli- 
tion of such an immense quantity of liquor makes the whole 
building vibrate, and produces a loud roaring like the distant 
noise of carts on the pavement. One hundred vats, the lar- 
gest of which is of the capacity of 1,700 barrels, contain the 
porter before it is drawn off into casks. The operations of 
grinding the malt, pumping the liquor, &c. are carried on 
by a steam engine of twenty horse power, which plays as soft- 
\y as a spinning-wheel. The average quantity of porter an- 



TROPHIES. 155 

nually brewed in this manufactory alone, is about 300,000 
barrels. Within the establishment are stalls for 160 dray- 
horses of the Flemish breed, which find constant employment 
in hauling and delivering the porter about the city. 

The tide was running in its full strength when we crossed 
London bridge, and the boats were frequently " shooting the 
arches" — an exploit less wonderful and hazardous than cre- 
dulity has often represented it. The violent rush of tides under 
this bridge is caused by the great number and size of the piers, 
which do not allow of a sufficient passage for the water. 
When the tide is at its greatest strength, the water on one 
side of the bridge is some feet higher than on the other, and 
the current under the arches impetuous in proportion. The 
same phenomenon does not occur at the other bridges, which 
present less obstruction to the current. 



CHAPTER XV. 



FRENCH AND TURKISH PIECES OF ORDNANCE MR. WILBERFORCE 

LONG ACRE CHAPEL ST. PANCRAS' NEW CHURCH ST. MARY's, AL- 

DERMART ST. MARY's, ISLINGTON GENERAL REMARKS ACTOR IN 

DISTRESS CONTRASTS PERCY CHAPEL — REV. MI. MACNEIL ENGLISH 

LADIES. 

In St. James' Park, in the rear of the Horse Guards, stands 
the famous mortar, constructed by the French at the siege of 
Cadiz, and abandoned by them in their retreat before Wel- 
lington. It is eight feet long, has a calibre of twelve inches 
diameter, and weighs about five tons. The bed of the mortar 
is a casting of brass in imitation of a rock ; on which is coiled 
a winged hydra, supporting the horns of the piece in its folds. 
It is singular that the French should not have destroyed this 
tremendous implement before their retreat. As it happened, 
however, it fell into the hands of the victors, who brought it 
away amidst other spoils of war. The whole is nearly ten 



156 JOURNAL. 

feet high, and the mortar is elevated at aa angle of forty -five 
degrees. Not far distant is another trophy of victory brought 
by the British troops from Alexandria. This is a Turkish 
piece of ordnance of immense length, with twelve or sixteen 
sides, and covered with impressions emblematic of the country, 
ail very beautifully wrought. 

The asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, which I took an oppor- 
tunity to visit, is situated quite in the south-eastern part of 
London. The pupils are all in one room, and are overlooked 
by six or eight instructors. They are now about two hundred 
in number, and are taught to articulate, which many of them 
do with sufficient distinctness to be understood. They are 
received into the family of Dr. Watson, who is the sole man- 
ager of the institution. Most of them are the children of poor 
parents, and are supported by the charity fund, which is man- 
aged by a committee. The institution is scarcely creditable 
to so great a metropolis as this. 

A few days after, I had the pleasure of two interviews with 
Mr. Wilberforce, who has just come to town and taken a 
house at Brompton, one of the western suburbs. On my first 
visit, I was shown up into his library, where he was kind 
enough to detain me for half an hour, although busily employ- 
ed in putting up and arranging his books. Mr. W. is appar- 
ently about seventy, small in person, and extremely lively 
and active in all his movements. In the course of the con- 
versation, he lamented the irritation kept up between the two 
countries ; and said, the Quarterly Review must not be under- 
stood to express the sentiments of the English generally to- 
wards the United States. The feeling towards us was deci- 
dedly friendly. The Quarterly was not in any sense an or- 
gan of the government, and the offensive articles were usually 

written by scribblers, who wrote for hire. 1 waited on him 

a few mornings after by appointment at breakfast, and found 
him surrounded by his agreeable family ; a Swiss gentleman 
was also present as a guest. Mrs. W., a very beautiful wo- 
man, contributed much to enliven the conversation at table. 
Mr. Wilberforce is now preparing for another parliamentary 
campaign, to procure the abolition of slavery throughout his 



MR. WILBERFORCE. 



157 



majesty's dominions. Speaking of Sir James Macintosh, 
he said he envied those who could enjoy the society of that 
man : he was one of the most enchanting men in conversation 
he ever knew. He wished, also, that he would write more for 
the public, he wrote so well. To a remark, that he was 
known in America principally as a parliamentary speaker ; he 
replied, " yes ; he has written little for the press. He is a 
fine speaker, too, only his delivery is not good : but we don't 
think much of that in England." He mentioned the elder 
Mr. Adams. " As a prophet has no honour in his own coun- 
try, perhaps Adams on the Ancient Republics, is but little 
known in America. I think it a most excellent work. I ap- 
prehend it would not fall in with the prevalent notions of 
government in your country — it recommends a stronger ex- 
ecutive than you are disposed to allow." " Perhaps our gov- 
ernment is best adapted to a state of peace. Should Ave be so 
unfortunate as to engage in dangerous and protracted wars, 
it will probably be found necessary to arm the executive with 
more power." — " I think so." He gave high praise to De 
Lolme on the British constitution ; and expressed surprise, 
that a foreigner should have written so well on so difficult a 
subject. " Have you any Jesuits in the United States ? 
Would your government allow them to establish an university 
for the instruction of youth?" He thought no government 
ought to tolerate them, because they are the servants of a for- 
eign potentate — the general of their order, to whom they are 
bound to yield a most implicit submission. They cannot be 
faithful to their order, without being, secretly at least, the en- 
emies of the government under which they hve. Taking 
down a map of the United States, he desired me to point out 
the routs of canals already formed or surveyed, to connect 
the valley of the Mississippi with the Atlantic. After tracing 
a few, and estimating the distance between the points connec- 
ted, he observed, " but this expansiveness — this vast surface 
of territory, is unfavourable to the arts of life. The excel- 
lence to which they have been brought in England, results 
from our being in a small compass — we are close together, 
and this proximity is favourable to improvement. It takes a 
14 



15S JOURNAL. 

long time, and is too expensive, to pass over such wide tracts 
of country." I mentioned our rivers and inland seas, by 
which, facilities for steam-boat navigation were afforded to 
an almost unlimited extent ; and the rapidity with which we- 
contrive to transport ourselves from place to place. He did 
not seem to be aware to what a degree they have been multi- 
plied, and by how many openings they were able to pen- 
etrate far into the interior. It was in a high degree gratify- 
ing to be thus brought into contact with a man, so highly 
venerated for his unwearied labours in the cause of humani- 
ty. The part he took in behalf of the unfortunate Africans 
— the ability with which he pleaded their cause in parliament 
->-the unwearied zeal with which he returned again and again 
to the charge, even when the cause seemed to be hopeless ; 
and his final success — for it may justly be called his- — in pro- 
curing an act abolishing the slave trade forever, have erect- 
ed for him a pillar of solid and long-enduring glory. 

On the following Sunday I attended service in the morning 
at Long Acre Chapel. The regular preacher is Mr. Howell, a 
Welchman. He pronounces with a strong national accent — 
uses much and violent gesture — is sometimes very vehement, 
and exhibits occasional flashes of genius and imagination. He 
preaches wholly without notes ; and is represented as a very 
faithful and pious man. 

I went in the afternoon to St. Pancras' new church, where 
was a most crowded audience. This splendid church stands 
on the city road in the northern part of London. It is a fine, 
spacious building ; but the architecture is a droll mixture of 
Grecian and Egyptian. The doric fluted columns of the porti- 
co, copied after those in the temple ofErectheus at Athens, are 
justly admired ; but the caryatides in the wings have excited 
some speculation. The steeple is said to be a copy of a Tem- 
ple of the Winds in some part of Egypt. The sermon was 
a dry, unedifying production. 

On a subsequent day, I accompanied a friend to St. Mary's, 
Aldermary, south of Cheap-side. The church has been un- 
dergoing repairs, and was to be're-opened on this day. It now 
looks fresh and beautiful, and some of the tracery in the ceil 



STATE OF RELIGION. 



\m 



ing is particularly elegant. " A glorious church, not having 
spot or wrinkle, or any such thing" — was the theme chosen 
by the Rev. Rector, Dr. Wilson, on the occasion. In the 
latter part of his discourse, he took a review of the labours 
of the Society for propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, 
in which he paid a handsome tribute to the memory of the late 
Bishop Dehon. He said, " they had seen, in the fruit of 
their labours, at least one prelate, whose learning, piety, 
mild virtues, and devotedness to the duties of his office, would 
have done honour to the Catholic church in any nation or 
age." Only a part of the seats in the church were occupied, 
the parish being a very small one. 

A long walk carried me in the afternoon, to St. Mary's, 
Islington, of which, the Rev. Mr. Denman of Richmond is 
evening lecturer. His place was however occupied by a 
stranger ; the audience was extremely numerous. 

A foreigner, perhaps, has no surer method of ascertaining 
the degree of religious feeling in a great metropolis like this, 
than to visit as many of their houses of worship as possible. 
From the general style of preaching which prevails in the dif- 
ferent churches, and from the attention paid by the people to 
the service, he will be able to arrive at some general conclu- 
sions not very far from the truth. Some of my readers may 
think I have been unnecessarily minute, in the observations I 
have made on the state of ecclesiastical affairs as they have 
fallen under my notice ; but I preferred giving them an oppor- 
tunity of forming a judgement for themselves, to asking them 
to rely on my own. General conclusions are far less satisfacto- 
ry, than a statement of the facts and instances on which they 
are founded ; and these, it has been my aim to present to the 
reader in the light in which they appeared to me. Every 
Episcopalian in America feels a natural wish for information 
in regard to the English national church, from which his own 
is derived — a church, whence so much good, not indeed un- 
mixed with some portion of alloy, has emanated. I am per- 
suaded that a higher tone of piety prevails, than would be 
naturally expected from the general style of pulpit instruction 
which it has been my lot to witness. That the latter has un- 



160 JOURNAL. 

dergone, however, a great change for the better within the 
last fifty years— that it has become more purely evangeUcal 
■—that the doctrines of man's depravity by nature, of the ne- 
cessity of a spiritual regeneration, of justification by faith 
alone, through the merits of Christ, have been, and still are, 
more frequently and distinctly held up to view — that there 
has been a general movement in the national establishment 
towards a return to the standard of her own articles, and of 
the Reformation — are facts which admit of no dispute. This 
change in the spiritual views of a large and influential portion 
of the clerical body has, to a considerable extent, produced a 
corresponding one among the people. The piety of the dis- 
senters, I have been frequently assured, is in a great measure 
transferred to the national church ; while many of their own 
chapels, once blessed with an orthodox ministry, have passed 
with their endowments into the hands of those who preach 
another gospel. The case of the dissenters at the present 
day affords a striking example, how difficult it is for a religious 
community to hold fast the profession of their faith, without 
the standard of a Liturgy, to which the doctrines of the pul- 
it may constantly be referred. 

One day as I came out of Westminster Abbey, and stop- 
ped to admire for the fiftieth time the chapel of Henry Vllth, 
my speculations were interrupted by a young man of decent 
appearance and prepossessing features, asking for charity. 
He said he was distressed and almost famished, or he would 
not do this. My attention being otherwise taken up at the 
moment, I carelessly answered that I had nothing to give him. 
He instantly desisted, and turned away with a dejected, em- 
barrassed air. This was so different from the usual manner 
of beggars that I could not help observing it, and I called 
him back to enquire into his history. " Have you no occu- 
pation — no friend in this city ?" As he turned about, I saw 
before me a youth of about eighteen, of very handsome, mild 
features, but sunk with famine, and his body lean and emacia- 
ted. Clothes, rusty and thread-bare, but carefully brushed — 
a fringe in place of a ruffle — a black cravat equally tattered, 
but scrupulously arranged ; and gloves so badly worn as to 



CONTRASTS. 



161 



serve for superfluity rather than for use, completed his exteri- 
or array. He was shivering with the cold. " Have you no 
occupation ?" " No, Sir ; I am out of employment, and un- 
able to get any ; I am sorry to say that I am an actor by profes- 
sion, but I can get no engagement. I was engaged at Liver- 
pool, and other towns in the north of England ; but the 
company broke up, and I came to London to get employ- 
ment. I have eaten nothing these two days, and am almost 
starved." Although I had no reason to believe that I had a 
young Otway or Chatterton before me ; yet I saw an ingenu- 
ous young man, hungry, distressed, and broken-hearted ; who 
in an evil hour had attached himself to a company of stroll- 
ing players, having in all probability Garrick's and Kemble's 
fame before his eyes. Along with the means of getting him 
a dinner, I thought myself entitled to give him a word of ad- 
vice, and urged him to cease looking for a support to a pro- 
fession so precarious and discreditable, and betake himself to 
an honest calling. 

The next object which presented itself in my walk was a 
culprit, with his wrists pinioned, marched along the Strand, 
in the charge of some Bow Street officers with drawn swords, 
and followed by a rabble "of the baser sort." Here were 
vice and misery in their natural association. 

Returning through Oxford Street to my lodgings, a still 
different picture was before me. The carriage of the hero 

of W rolled past, with his lordship seated in it. Here 

was vice, without doubt ; but whether with or without its 
usual companion, misery, must be left to conjecture. It is 
surprising, with how little respect the English are accustomed 
to speak of this conqueror of the conqueror of the civilized 
world, who might have rendered himself the idol of the na- 
tion. His name is scarcely ever mentioned ; and almost 
always with some epithet of reproach, or expression of dis- 
approbation. I have more than once heard even his military 
talents depreciated, which was certainly " extenuating his 
glory wherein he was worthy :" so strong is the dislike he 
has incurred, by doing violence to the moral feelings of the 
community in some of his domestic habits. The reception 
14* 



162 JOURNAL. 

of Lord Nelson in England, when he attempted to introduce 
the profligate Lady Hamilton into society — the refusal to see 
him or show him the least mark of respect, ought to have as- 

sured the victor of W , that there are moral delinquencies 

which will not be overlooked by the community, even in con- 
sideration of the most eminent services to the State. 

February 19. — To-day was the anniversary of the " Hi- 
bernian Female School Society," held at the Percy Chapel. 
The object of this institution, which is patronized by one of 
the royal princesses, and many ladies of rank, is the promo- 
tion of industry among the females of the Irish peasantry. 
It was a sufficient inducement to attempt getting a seat in the 
Chapel, that the sermon was to be preached by the Rev. Mr. 
Macneil ; who, young as he is, has already established a re- 
putation for pulpit eloquence inferior to none in the metropo- 
lis or its vicinity. At eleven, the chapel was nearly full, and 
the street lined with equipages. The preacher chose for his 
text the Pharisee's accusation of our Lord, " Behold, this 
man receiveth sinners." He appeared not to be more than 
twenty-four or twenty-five years of age ; and notwithstand- 
ing he had an audience of noble men and women, and the 
greatest part of his sermon had not been written, and was de- 
livered wholly without notes, yet his self-possession was never 
disturbed, nor did he ever seem at a loss for ideas or expres- 
sions. It was, on the whole, the best exhibition of pulpit 
eloquence I have witnessed in England — bold, manly, and 
impressive ; without any of the affectation, and contortion, 
and grimace, which are so prominent in the Caledonian 
preacher. It certainiy required some share of moral courage 
to expose, before such an audience, the prevailing vices and 
follies of fashionable life, as well as those among the peasant- 
ry of Ireland. He traced both to the same cause — idleness. 
The want of useful occupation sent the one class into the vor- 
tex of dissipation and frivolity — to cards, operas, and mas- 
querades ; and the other, to the ale-house, drunkenness, 
nocturnal revels, brawlings and crime. There was evidently 
in the speaker a fund of brilliant imagination, which appear- 
ed in occasional flashes, but was immediately chastened and 



ENGLISH LADIES. 168 

repressed. He appeared too much engaged, to hunt after 
figures of rhetoric, or to allow his imagination to lead him 
away from his purpose. There was no affectation — no at- 
tempt at display ; and what rhetorical beauties appeared in his 
discourse, and there were many, seemed to come of their 
own accord. For an hour, he kept the undivided attention 
of his audience. 

I afterwards learned that Mr. Macneil is an Irishman, a 
son-in-law of Dr. Magee, Archbishop of Dublin ; and in 
doctrine, a high-going Calvinist. He has a small curacy in 
the neighbourhood of London. His talents have already 
rendered him highly popular in the metropolis as a preacher, 
notwithstanding the high tone of his doctrinal views, which 
are represented as going the utmost lengths of the school of 
Geneva. 

There is a dignity, an elegance, an ease, in the manners 
of English ladies accustomed to the society of London ; a 
readiness in conversation ; a flow of choice language ; a 
quickness and correctness of taste, derived from a constant 
intercourse with well educated men, and a familiarity with the 
standard authors, which render them most engaging company. 
Without attempting to fascinate by the brilliancy of their wit, 
they instantly secure esteem by their unvarying propriety, 
their sterling good sense, and unaffected simplicity of man- 
ners. Miss Hannah More describes them as " a class of ex- 
cellent female characters, who, on account of that very ex- 
cellence, are little known, because to be known is not their 
object. If they occasion little sensation abroad, they produce 
much happiness at home. And when a woman, who has 
' all appliances and means to get it,' can withstand the intox- 
ication of the flatterer, and the adoration of the fashionable ; 
can conquer the fondness for public distinction ; can resist the 
temptation of that magic circle to which she is courted, and 
in which she is qualified to shine — this is indeed a trial of 
firmness ; a trial, in which those who have never been called 
to resist themselves, can hardly judge of the merit of resist- 
ance in others. These are the women who bless, dignify, and 
truly adorn society." On meeting a small circle of the most 



164 JOURNAL. 

intimate friends of this gifted lady, at the house of Mr. Mac* 
aulay, it is scarcely necesary to add, that I fancied I was in 
the society of some of the originals, from whom the fair p^icture 
was drawn. Unlike the conversation at most dinner parties, 
that which I listened to was on subjects of higher interest than 
the excellence of the dishes and the flavour of the wines ; 
yet nothing could be more unrestrained, or free from pe- 
dantic stiffness. 

Mr. Macaulay's name has been so long associated with the 
Christian Observer, that few persons in a private station are 
more generally known. The labours of editorship have been 
for many years committed to other hands ; but I believe he 
occasionally writes an article on West India slavery, the abo- 
lition of which is an event which he has much at heart, A 
merchant with extensive connections, his habits of intense 
industry are such, as to enable him to devote no small portion 
of his time and talents to woi;ks of general benevolence. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



lEXCURSION TO RICHMOND TWICKENHAM HAMPTON COURT — CARTOONS 

ST. JAMEs', PICCADILLY ST. MARY-LE-BONE DR. BUSflELD HOUSE 

OF COMMONS ATTACK ON THE LORD CHANCELLOR MR. WILLIAMS 

MR. PEEL — MR. BROUGHAM MR. CANNING MR. ROBINSON. 

I took coach one morning, in company with a friend, to 
fulfil an engagement to pass the day with the Rev. Mr. Den- 
man at Richmond, and to see what was worth seeing in the 
vicinity. Our observations from the top of the coach were 
limited as usual, by the thickness of the atmosphere ; but as 
the objects in the first part of the ride were already familiar, 
I had less reason than usual to quarrel with English fogs. 
We crossed the Thames by Putney bridge ; and passing 
through Mortlake and Shene, arrived at Richmond about noon. 
We lost no time in setting off, in company with Mr. D., on 



TWICKENHAM. 165 

our walk to Hampton Court, to see which was one of the ob- 
jects of our visit. Crossing the river again, after a deUght- 
ful walk of half a mile on the southern bank, we continued 
our course through meadows on the opposite side. On our 
left, I'ose Richmond hill, crowned with stately mansions, — 
its sloping side decorated with trees, pleasure grounds, and 
noblemens' villas, quite down to the water's edge. Our 
walk conducted us along 

" the matchless vale of Thames, 

Fair winding up to whero the muses haunt 
In Twit'nam's bowers." 

As we entered the village of Twickenham, we came to the 
spot once occupied by Pope's villa ; the position of which is 
indicated by a slight elevation in the high road, over the grot- 
to constructed by the poet, to allow him access to his plea- 
sure grounds on the opposite side of the way. The house in 
which Pope resided was pulled down about twenty years ago, 
to make room for a larger edifice erected near the spot. I 
clambered up the wall over the grotto to get a view of the 
garden, which is handsomely laid off in shrubbery, threaded 
by gravelled walks diverging from the outlet of the grotto. 
Our walk led us through the church yard, where my attention 
was attracted by a square marble tablet in the wall of the 
church ; the inscription on which bore, that it was erected 
by the piety of the poet to the memory of his nurse. It was 
something to see the name of Alexander Pope, in the village 
where he spent his latter years, on a tablet of his own erect- 
ing. 

Passing through the village of Teddington, we entered 
Bushy Park by a gate-way, and proceeded up a long avenue 
of trees towards "royal Hampton's pile." The park is a 
royal demesne containing many hundred acres, and well 
studded with trees. It is quite level. On the outskirts of 
the park, and near the entrance, stands " the mansion," a 
brick structure, neither very large nor very elegant ; but re- 
markable in these days of royal degeneracy as the residence 
of Mrs. Jordan the actress, and the chere amie of the Duke 
of Clarence. Great numbers of fallov/ deer were chasing 



166 JOURNAL. 

each other about the park, and so tame as to allow us to ap- 
proach quite near. Their size is very diminutive. Near the 
top of the avenue, the walk divides so as to encompass a cir- 
cular basin of water ; in the middle of which rises a marble 
obelisk, decorated with a variety of marine deities. 

Emerging from the park into the street, we came in front 
of the shrubbery, which we threaded by a winding walk — not 
forgetting to look at the famous grape-vine, which has yielded 
almost a ton of grapes in a season. A postern opens in the 
garden wall ; and on stepping through it, we had a view of 
the whole front, or rather, of one of the fronts, of this kingly 
residence. 

Hampton Court, it is needless to remark, was built by the 
" proud prelate" Wolsey for his own use ; but finding him- 
self beginning to totter in the favour of his sovereign, and 
dreading the storm of envy which was already gathering 
against his greatness, he presented it as a sort of peace- 
offering to his terrible master. But little of the original 
building now remains, consisting of subordinate apartments 
and domestic offices ; nor does that little inspire very high 
ideas of the taste in architecture which prevailed in the days 
of Henry. The present structure was the work of Sir C. 
Wren in the time of William of Orange. To the latter mon- 
arch, a residence at Hampton might have been recommended, 
by the flatness of the surrounding country, which might be 
supposed congenial to the taste of a Dutchman born among 
dykes and fens. Every thing here is laid out by the square 
and compass. The basin of water in front is an exact par- 
allelogram ; each tree is the twin brother of another tree ; 
and the walks all run in parallel or rectangular directions, 
or diverge like the radii of a circle. As we passed under the 
archway leading into one of the quadrangles, we were struck 
with the air of desertion and even desolation which pervades 
the place. One might almost fancy himself in a mansion of 
the dead, were not the stillness sometimes broken by the 
measured tread of the sentry pacing to and fro on the pave- 
ment. It is needless to attempt a description of this royal 
pile. It is huge, but not magnificent ; nor is it possible, per-> 



HAMPTON COURT. 167 

haps, to erect a palace of hrich, which shall deserve that 
epithet. The materials call up too many vulgar associations, 
of which we cannot divest ourselves, when the question is 
concerning a point of taste. The apartments are spacious 
and lofty, and wainscoted with oak now grown brown with 
age ; but being mostly unfurnished, they have a cold and 
cheerless appearance. The walls of some of the rooms are 
hung with tapestry ; that in Queen Mary's closet is said to 
have been wrought by herself and her maids of honour. We 
may safely admire their industry, if we are unable to do hom- 
age to their taste and skill. Here are state beds of crimson 
velvet, on whose rotundity it would puzzle any one but a 
Dutchman to keep his place — ceilings painted by Sir James 
Thornhill and others, some of them beautiful — a model of an 
intended palace in Richmond gardens, which is said to have 
cost five hundred guineas — paintings by eminent masters, 
which we had not time to examine as we wished, although 
William TIL on his grey horse, by Kneller, I thought one 
of the finest ; and above all, the Cartoons of Raffaelle, a sight 
of which is worth a voyage across the Atlantic. These sub- 
lime productions have often been described ; but it is impos- 
sible to convey, by description, a correct idea of the creations 
of the pencil. The death of Ananias, and Elymas the sor- 
cerer struck blind, are perhaps as striking pictures as any in 
the series. What a representation of a man dying in full 
health and conscience-struck ! What astonishment, what hor- 
ror, in the faces of the spectators ; yet what majestic compo- 
sure, not unmingled with deep emotion, in that of St. Peter ! 
He knew beforehand the dreadful sequel of his denunciations ; 
while the rest were taken by surprise. The Cartoons are 
seven in number, and of unequal size, being from fourteen to 
eighteen feet in length, by about eleven in height. The fig. 
ures are all considerably larger than life. Their appear- 
ance is like that of unfinished paintings, the quantity of col- 
our used being just sufficient to bring the figures distinctly 
forward. They are in fact, paintings on thick strong paper, 
with colours prepared in an unusual way. As we were prom- 
enading along these deserted chambers, the fog was suddenly 



168 JOURNAL. 

dispersed ; the sun broke forth and illuminated the scenery, 
giving us a view of the Thames and the opposite bank ; the 
birds took up their song ; and with regret we quitted this royal 
mansion, associated with so much that is interesting in the 
history of England's kings. Since the days of George II.,' 
the reigning family have ceased to make it their residence. 
We returned by a different route, and arrived at Richmond 
after dark, having walked ten or twelve miles. 

The next day was Sunday, and I attended church in the 
morning at St. James', Piccadilly, in the hope of hearing 
Dean Andrewes, reckoned one of the best preachers in the 
western part of the town. In this however I was disappoint- 
ed. The pulpit was taken possession of by Mr. S., a dull, 
dry preacher, who showed an excellent talent at spoiling a 
good subject. What little animation he had was exerted to 
undeceive his hearers in the bad opinion they might have 
formed of themselves. He candidly acknowledged that there 
were so?ne very wicked men in the v.'orld ; but then they 
were heathens : as to there being any great or general de- 
pravity in Christianized England, it was all a mistake. With 
such miserable stuff did he take up the attention of a very 
large audience, which was certainly worthy of better treat- 
ment. I took notice of a little affectation in the reader of 
the service, in his manner of pronouncing the words goeth, 
meekness, goodness ; which were uttered as if they had been 
spelt go-uth, meek-nuss, good-nuss. I wish this kjnd of fop- 
pery was confined to St. James'. While on the subject of 
pronunciation, I would remark, that many young preachers ap- 
pear to think it incumbent on them to get rid of all the rough- 
nesses of our mother tongue. Thus, world is pronounced 
wauld ; Lord, Laud ; heart, hat ; forgiveness, jfaw-giveness. 
Such fastidiousness as this tends to deprive the language of 
all its force, and would spoil the effect of the best composed 
discourse. Nobody shows it in conversation ; it is heard 
neither in pleading at the bar, nor in the senate, nor in any 
extemporaneous effusions ; but when a well-tutored graduate 
reads a chapter or a discourse " to ears polite," it is in such 



WESTMINSTER HALL. 



169 



a studied artificial way, as to produce no more effect than if 
none were intended. 

Failing in an attempt to get admission into the Taberna- 
cle in the afternoon, where one of the most celebrated of the 
Whitfield Methodists was to preach, I went to the church of 
Mary-le-bone, in the new road, and arrived just aftpr the 
service had commenced. This is a very large and elegant 
church ; and, with its double galleries, accommodates an im- 
mense number of people. It was quite full. The organ, re- 
markably powerful and sweet-toned, stands behind the pul- 
pit and over the altar, which is decorated with a fine painting 
of the Nativity, presented to the church by our countryman 
West. The preacher was Dr. Busfield, an elderly man, who 
stands high in the public estimation as an eloquent and faith- 
ful minister. His sermon on " blind Bartimeus" contained 
many striking things, delivered in a happy manner. Some 
passages were quite in the style of the best parts of Sterne, 
but with far more attention to practical effect. Unlike most 
of the preachers in the metropolis, he used considerable ac- 
tion ; and his sermon, being partly committed to memory, 
was delivered with much freedom. 

Wednesday, Feb. 25.— Yesterday, my friend and fellow- 
passenger, Mr. M , to whom I am indebted for many 

civilities, called and proposed to accompany me to the House 
of Commons, where it was expected there would be some 
interesting debates . It was but two o'clock when we got to 
Westminster Hall ; and, to pass away the time, we went into 
the House of Lords, where there was some pleading going on. 
Few of the Lords were present. Sir Robert Gifford, lately 
made a Baron and Vice-Chancellor, was on the woolsack, 
with Lord Redesdale on his right, and Earl Verulam on his 
left. The face of the Baron is rather effeminate, and indi- 
cates sensibility and nice feeling, rather than strength of 
mind ; and it is not till you obsei've the expression of his 
thoughtful eye, that you imagine him to be the able and acute 
man of business. The Earl is a perfect contrast to him, as 
respects personal appearance. He has a heavy, dull eye; 

and ever and anon relaxed his large features into a yawn,' 
15 



:^ 



no JOURNAL. 

Lord Redesdale has a remarkably good humoured face ; and 
his attention to the pleader in some measure compensa- 
ted for the remissness of his colleague. Lord Stowell sat on 
one of the side seats, conversing with a peer. He is a brother 
of the Lord Chancellor, and is said to be not inferior to him 
in legal lore. I had leisure to study the decorations of this 
famous room. The throne at the upper end is thought to be 
magnificent ; and undoubtedly is so, as far as gilding and 
crimson velvet can entitle it to that character. The seats for 
the members are covered with scarlet cloth ; as is the wool- 
sack which supports the Lord Chancellor. But the most 
attractive object in the room, at least to an American specta- 
tor, is the tapestry, representing the destruction of the arma- 
da by the fleet under Effingham ; which furnished the immor- 
tal Chatham with one of his happiest allusions in his speech 
on the troubles with the American colonies. The heads of 
the naval heroes, who fought on that day, form the border of 
the piece. The tapestry is now much faded and defaced, 
and appears never to have been designed in very exquisite 
taste. A space is divided off" at the lower end of the room 
by a light iron railing, called the bar, below which spectators 
are admitted. 

We stayed here about an hour, and then sought out the 
crooked passage leading to the house of Commons. This 
was already filling up with candidates for admission into the 
gallery. The passages, stair-cases, &;c. which double and 
re-double about this place, are even more intricate than 
those which bewilder the luckless wight, who has the audaci- 
ty to enter the labyrinths of our own Capitol for the first 
time, without a guide. We read of the house of Lords, and 
house of Commons ; but a stranger would never be able to 
find either of them without a pilot. They are not separate 
houses ; but merely apartments in a huge cluster of build- 
ings, pitched together in the utmost confusion. Let one 
imagine a dozen houses of every size, and shape, and ar- 
rangement, huddled together without order or method, in the 
rear of Westminster Hall, and made to communicate with 
each other by divers passages and flights of stairs, diverging. 



HOUSE OF COMMONS. 171 

converging, ascending, descending and retrograding, at every 
possible angle ; and he will have some idea of the intricacy 
of these premises. 

After we had stood an hour on the same square foot of 
floor, the whole passage being choked up with expectants 
like ourselves, the janitor drew the bolts, and cautiously let 
us pass, one by one, giasping in his fist the half crowns 
which we slipped into it as we squeezed by. We got a pretty 
good seat near the front of the gallery, which overlooks the 
members below. In a few minutes, the speaker entered, 
preceded by the usher, with his mace, and followed by the 
chaplain, who, after bowing twice to the chair began pray- 
ers, which he gallopped through with a rapidity taught him 
probably by the impatience of the members. Prayers being 
over, the house filled up fast, particularly the side of the op- 
position, the members of which, as afterwards appeared, 
were particularly interested in the evening's debate. The 
usual preliminary business of petitions, &c. being cleared 
away, a Mr. Williams, in a speech of two hours and a half, 
moved for a commission of enquiry into the present state of 
the court of Chancery, with a view to discover the causes of 
delay in the administration of justice. It was understood to 
be a pre-concerted attack on the present Lord Chancellor, as 
well as on the chancery system. Mr. Williams delivered his 
speech very gracefully in white kid gloves, but grew a little 
tiresome at last. He amplified much on the law's delay ; 
and alluded, not inaptly, to a caricature he had seen, intend- 
ed to exemplify the fate of a suit in chancery. The litigated 
property was a little piece of rocky ground with a wind-mill 
upon it. While the cause was still pending, the enclosures 
had gone to decay, the premises were overrun with briars, 
and the mill itself, the subject of contention, had rotted and 
tumbled down. " Adhuc sub judice lis est,^' was the appro- 
priate motto of the picture. The speakers who followed 
were Mr. Abercrombie, Mr. Secretary Peel, Mr. Lockhart of 
Oxford, Mr. Brougham, Mr. Canning, and Mr. Robinson. 

Mr. Peel is a young man, who by his own merits and a 
lucky conjuncture of circumstances, has gained his present 



172 JOURNAL. 

seat on the Treasury bench. His father, Sir Robert Peel, is 
a wealthy cotton manufacturer. The Secretary is rather 
tall and slender in his person, with carroty hair, light com- 
plexioned and hard featured. He spoke with considerable 
energy, particularly when vindicating the character of " his 
noble and learned friend" the Lord Chancellor, from the im- 
putations thrown out in the attack. His manner has nothing 
graceful in it. He stepped forwards and backwards, slap- 
ping violently, and with measured strokes, the desk on the 
table before him ; and wheeling often and suddenly to the 
right and left to address the house. 

Brougham is in all respects a most extraordinary man. In 
person, he is tall, lean, raw-boned, and ungainly ; with fea- 
tures uncommonly hard and coarse, and a complexion sallow 
and bloodless. Perhaps I was influenced by the known char- 
acter of the man ; but I thought there was something even 
in the tones of his voice which conveyed to the hearer the 
idea of bitter and concealed irony. He appears to regard 
the subject of debate only as a field of battle, on which he 
can manoeuvre his forces, and distress his adversary, by his 
skill in sharp-shooting and planting ambuscades, and by the 
sudden and murderous fire of his masked batteries. You 
sit in perfect admiration of his talents and address ; but at 
the same time, you do not give him one particle of your 
confidence, nor does he seem to desire that you should. 
Galling sarcasm, and bitter and distressing invective, no one 
better knows howto administer, in tones of affected calmness, 
and in that provoking kind of language which all the while 
keeps barely within the limits of decorum. His action at 
times is energetic, but ungraceful ; he saws the air with his 
long, bony arms, and now and then rounds off" a period by an 
emphatic thump on the lable. You know when he is about 
to discharge gall of more than common bitterness, by his lean- 
ing forwards, weaving the muscles of his face into a sneer, 
protruding a long slender finger, and peering about from side 
to side, as if anxious that no drop of it should fall to the 
ground unnoticed. This is the invariable signal for a hourra 



MR. CANNING. 173 

from this formidable Cossack ; and woe to the luckless ad- 
versary against whom he directs his Idnce., 

The only man in the house capable of waging battle with 
this dire foe, is Canning ; and even he, on one occasion, evi- 
dently showed that he was sensible to the stunning force of 
the attack. 

" Ten paces huge 

He back recoiled ; the tenth, on bended knee, 

His massy spear upstay'd." 

This happened on their first encounter, after Mr. Canning's 
elevation to the treasury bench. 

The style of Mr. Canning's oratory fs entirely different 
from that of his rival, as every one must have observed who 
has read and compared their speeches. He wins your con- 
fidence by his apparent sincerity, as much as he delights you 
by his playful wit, and the manly strain of eloquence he pours 
forth, when thoroughly warmed with his subject. In the early 
part of his speech, he is evidently embarrassed, which ap- 
pears in the hesitancy of his enunciation and his nervous 
gesticulations ; but these are no longer observable, when 
once he is fairly in possession of the train of thought he in- 
tends to pursue. It is then that he rivets you to your seat, 
and you feel that you are no longer your own master. He 
uses but little action until his spirit begins to kindle, when he 
steps to and fro, and raps the aforesaid desk with heavy min- 
isterial thumps. ; The motion of Mr. Williams was consider- 
ed as an attack, not only on the present chancery system, 
which is said to produce vast mischief by the dilatoriness of 
its decisions ; but on the Lord Chancellor himself, to whose 
indolence and indecision many of the evils are attributed by 
the opposition. The friendship between him and Mr. Can- 
ning is known to be neither very intimate nor cordial ; and it 
was not to be expected, that the latter would eitibark very 
zealously in his defence. / Leaving to Mr. Peel the vindica- 
tion of the Chancellor's fair fame, he made a wide digression 
on the freedom of the constitution, which allowed the hum- 
blest subject to aspire to the presidency of the house of peers. 

Among the prerogatives of the crown, there was none more 
15* 



174 



JOURNAL. 



valuable than that, by which it was enabled to choose the most 
worthy man in the kingdom, however lowly his station might 
be, and place him in the high and responsible station of Lord 
Chancellor of the realm. This was an evident evasion of 
the subject under debate, on which the orator did not choose 
to be explicit. Mr. Canning is of a middling stature, with 
a pleasing and manly expression of countenance. The top 
of his head is entirely bald, affording to the craniologist every 
desirable faciUty for studying his high, square, retreating fore- 
head. His style of delivery has much more of energy than 
of grace, in which he resembles most of the parliamentary 
orators I have heard. 

Mr. Robinson, the present Chancellor of the Exchequer, is 
a stout, light-complexioned man, who has a very pleasing 
way of saying what he has to say. He had opened his 
budget a few days before ; and now got up at the call of a 
member of the opposition, mei'ely to give some explanations. 
He uses little gesture, and his whole manner is mild and con- 
ciliatory. 

The business of the evening being over, we made our 
escape at half past ten, after a session of six hours and a half 
in nearly the same posture. 

It is a fact well worthy the attention of young men, who 
have t le misfortune to consider themselves great geniuses, 
that nearly all the master spirits of the British parliament 
have been distinguished as scholars, before they became 
eminent as statesmen. If Sheridan is urged as an exception, 
let it be remarked, that only one Sheridan has ever been 
heard on the floor of St. Stephen's ; and that the splendid 
and terrible assailant of Warren Hastings sunk at last into 
a mere writer of comedies, and a manager of a play-house. 
Chatham, and Pitt, and Fox, and Burke, and Canning, and 
Brougham ; with many others, whose names shine with a 
lustre only a little inferior to those above mentioned, were 
distinguished for their classical attainments. They laid the 
foundation of their future greatness in the cloisters of the 
university. Since the world began, genius has accomplished 
nothing without industry ; and no error can be more fatal to 



ROYAL SOCIETY. _175 

the young aspirant after distinction and usefulness, than that 
indolent self-complacency which rests on the supposed pos- 
session of exalted genius. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



SIR T. D. ACLAND DINNER AND MEETING OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY SIR 

HUMPHREY DAVY ELY CHAPEL SALTER's HALL CHAPEL DR. COL- 

LYER DINNER AT MR. STRATFORD CANNINg's SIR JAMES MACINTOSH 

ARCH DEACON POTT ANNIVERSARY SERMON —CHURCH PATRONAGE. 

Through the politeness of one of my friends, I was fur- 
nished with an introduction to Sir Thomas Dyke Acland, a de- 
scendant of Lady Harriet Acland, whose romantic history is 
connected with that of the Frenchwar in the United States. 
I waited on him at his lodgings in Waterloo-place, where he 
resides during the session of parliament, of which he is a 
member. A young man of more prepossessing appearance 
and engaging manners, I have rarely seen. Intellectual en- 
ergy and decision appear in his expressive, manly features, 
and in all the movements of his fine, athletic form ; and above 
all, he bears the character of a most exemplary Christian. 
He talks with rapidity and great good sense, and his views of 
things are large and liberal. In short, he is one of those 
whom we love to look at and listen to. 

February 26. — To-day, I have enjoyed the honour of di- 
ning with the mem-bers of the Royal Society, and of attending 
their meeting ; and now beg leave to describe, with some 
minuteness, what I saw of this august body. In company 
with Mr. Marsden, to whose gratuitous kindness I was in- 
debted for an introduction, I repaired to the " Crown and An- 
chor Tavern" in the Strand, and found the company already 
assembhng. As they came in, they took their seats around 
the dining-table, sans ceremonie, waiting for the entrance of 



176 JOURNAL. 

the president, and of the dinner — with equal interest perhaps, 
as the one was a signal for the other. At half past five, Sir 
Humphrey took his seat — a short pleasant looking man, with 
a florid face and " a bonny blue 'ee." On his left was the 
Duke of Somerset, with a most unintellectual countenance ; 
and next to him, Dr. Goodenough, the Bishop of Chester, an 
aged man in a bob wig. On the right of the president was a 
refugee Spaniard and a man of science, whom I understood 
to be a candidate for the honour of membership. Next was 
Capt. Parry, a hale seaman, with an oval face expressive 
of nothing remarkable. His age is apparently about thirty. 
My seat happened to be next to Lambert the Botanist, whose 
enquiries about Barton, Nuttall, Wilson, and other American 
naturalists, of whose works he spoke in terms of high commen- 
dation, were interrupted by the arrival of dinner. Then, there 
was Sir Robert Seppings, the naval architect, and the investi- 
gator of the causes of the dry rot in ships ; and Sir Robert In 
glis of the Carnatic Department, a handsome, polite man, who 
afterwards shoAved me the Society's'book, containing the auto- 
graphs of all the members of the Society from its foundation; 
and Hobhouse the father ; and Hobhouse the son, the fellow 
traveller of Lord Byron, with his sprightly visage and Roman 
nose ; and Young the mathematician ; and a host of others, 
whose names are probably inscribed on the scroll of fame. On 
my right was a fine young man lately from India, and a can- 
didate for admission. He said he had lived while in Calcut- 
ta in the house next to the late Bishop, Dr. Middleton, and 
was called up in the night when his Lordship was breathing 
his last. His death was occasioned by no disease ; his 
strength sunk under perpetual anxiety and irritation of mind, 
joined to the ravages produced on his constitution by an 
enervating climate. 

The dinner was good, but not sumptuous ; and the wine, 
which was excellent, was drank in moderation. At eight the 
president left the chair, and the members repaired to their 
room in Somerset House. There was first a meeting of the 
Antiquarian Society in an adjoining apartment, to which I 
was admitted through the politeness of my conductor. The 



ROYAL SOCIETY. 



177 



Earl of Aberdeen is president of this association ; but in his 
absence, the chair was taken by one of the vice-presidents, 
who endued his brows with a triangular cocked hat when he 
entered on his official duties. The secretary read some pa- 
pers relative to antiquities lately brought to light — a letter of 
Henry VIII. to his steward, directing how much beef, mut- 
ton, ale, &c., should be daily apportioned from the larder 
" for the maintenance of the Lady Lucy," and v/hich quite 
discomposed the gravity of the venerable antiquaries, by its 
minute, and somewhat unkingly attention to thrift — an ac- 
count of a ring bearing a Roman inscription, lately discover- 
ed ; and exhibited a cast from a little statue of Hercules in 
bronze, found in the south of France, &c. Some new mem- 
bers were balloted in, and the Society adjourned aftersitting 
three quarters of an hour. The room is decorated or rather 
disfigured, by four or five paintings of the time of Henry VHL, 
more wretched than the daubs of a sign-painter. Their an- 
tiquity must constitute their chief value in the eyes of the 
sages. 

In the saloon. Sir. Gilbert Blayne and Sir Everard Home 
were pointed out — the latter, a hale, athletic man, with a 
face full of glee and good humour. The names being called 
over, the members entered the Royal Society's room, a spa- 
cious, handsome apartment, hung round with a great number 
of portraits of those who have done honour to the institution. 
When Sir Humphrey took the chair, a complete metamor- 
phosis had taken place in his outer man. He appeared in a 
long, full-skirted, collarless coat, whose broad cufl^s and pock- 
et-flaps were ornamented with steel buttons of most expanded 
disk, after the manner of the days of Charles H ; and a vest 
of the same antique cut. His clapping a little cocked hat on 
his auburn locks was a signal that the meeting was opened. 
We had a paper from Dr. Woolaston, on the optic nerve ; and 
another, tedious enough in all conscience, on the disturbances 
of the needle by the iron-work in a ship. While the sec- 
retary was toiling through this prosing detail of experiments 
made without an object, the learned president appeared a 
little deficient in the gravity which became hi* station. If one 



178 JOURNAL. 

might be allowed to judge by the cut of his face, the spirit of 
glee and good fellowship has made it her chosen residence. 
After the election of some new Fellows, the meeting was dis- 
solved at half past nine, by the president's laying aside the 
official hat and abdicating the chair. Being favoured with 
an introduction to him, I found him no less agreeable than 
intelligent in conversation. He spoke highly of our chemists 
and mineralogists, with whose labours he is well acquainted ; 
and the conversation terminated in an invitation to his levees 
on Saturday evenings. 

Sir Humphrey Davy is one of those highly gifted individ- 
uals, who owe their elevation solely to their personal merit. 
While he occupied the humble post of a stable-boy it is said 
that his turn for scientific investigation attracted the notice of 
those who were able and ready to patronize talent ; and in a 
few years, he was known as the most popular chemical lee 
turer in the metropolis. The discoveries he has made in the 
science are well known, and attest how well he deserves the 
honourable station he fills as president of the Royal Society. 

The morning of the following Sunday was passed at Ely 
Chapel, the pulpit of which is occupied at present by Mr. 
Coleridge, the Bishop elect of Barbadoes. His discourse was 
a respectable composition, but too common-place to produce 
much effect. A sonorous voice and wrongly placed empha- 
sis are the points most observable in his delivery. A good 
congregation was assembled in the chapel ; and it was grat- 
ifying to see the long row of neatly dressed charity children 
in the gallery. A very beautiful Gothic window is the only 
remarkable thing about the structure ; unless the reader 
chooses to be reminded of a historical incident, the sponta- 
neous and somewhat mistimed effusion of loyalty on the part 
of a worthy clerk on a trying occasion. 

" So, in the chapel of old Ely House, 

When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the third, 

Had fled from William, and the news was fresh. 

The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce, 

And eke did rear right merrily, two staves, 

Sung to the praise and glory of King George." 



DR. COLLYER. 179 

I went, in the afternoon, to Salter's-hall Chapel, Cannon- 
street, a place of worship for the Calvinistic Dissenters. The 
chapel is not large, but accommodates a great many people, 
and is very plainly finished — a description, which will apply 
to almost all the dissenting chapels I have seen. They com- 
monly occupy a little paved court in the rear of the houses, 
and are often invisible from the street; and are built with far 
more attention to convenience, and the accommodation of 
numbers, than to elegance. The chapel was entirely full, 
and Dr. Collyer the stated preacher occupied the pulpit. He 
is said to be one of the most popular of all the dissenting 
ministers in the metropolis ; but an unlucky attempt to dab- 
ble in surgery, in a case of a delicate nature, has exposed 
him to the lampoons and sly jokes of certain waggish editors. 
The doctor has a smooth, easy, flowing elocution, with a 
voice sufficiently musical ; but his great fault is that he uses 
too many words. This, with the equal flow of his language 
and conceptions — never rising to sublimity or pathos, and 
never sinking below mediocrity, renders his delivery, after a 
little while, tiresome. He has too the common fault of ex- 
temporary preachers — that of repetition ; though not perhaps 
in an unusual degree. But notwithstanding these failings, he 
must be reckoned an eloquent and persuasive, though not a 
very forcible preacher. 

In the evening, I heard in Oxford Chapel a well compo- 
sed dissertation on the character of Hezekiah, by an elderly 
man whose name I did not learn. If he wanted the qualities 
of a commanding pulpit orator, he was not deficient in those 
of piety and good sense. 

I had been favoured with an introduction to Mr Stratford 
Canning, the former minister at Washington ; and had the hon- 
our of an invitation to dine at his house in Berkeley Square. 
The politeness and urbanity of his manners are too well known 
and too highly appreciated in America, to receive any addition- 
al lustre from the commendations of a humble individual. To 
the native kindness of his disposition is united a thorough good 
breeding, which soon places a stranger at his ease. Among 
the guests at dinner were Sir James Macintosh, Sir Hum- 



180 JOURNAL. 

phrey Davy, a number of members of parliament, and a lit- 
erary gentleman from the U. States — in all, about eighteen 
or twenty. No ladies graced the repast by their presence, 
Mr. C. and his brother being both unmarried. The latter is 
a plain, sensible man, who has travelled much : in his person- 
al appearance, 1 thought I discovered a strong resemblance 
to his cousin, the secretary and orator. The person by whom 
my curiosity was the most strongly attracted, was Sir James 
Macintosh. He is a large, strongly built Scotchman, with an 
immense pile of forehead, and a head full enough of bumps 
to satisfy the most admiring phrenologist. While engaged in 
conversation, and particularly when telling an anecdote, in 
which he excels, the merry glance and glee of his laughing 
blue eye, and the play of his massy features, are worthy the 
study of a painter. The muscles of his face seem to be ab- 
solutely endued with the power of thought. For a long time 
he kept the table in a roar, by his ludicrous description of the 
speech of an honourable member in the house last evening. 
Sir Humphrey was not backward in contributing to the amuse- 
ment of the guests ; and his story of the mercurial Greek, who 
came to him for a certificate of his fitness to become a mem- 
ber of the Royal Society, was as laughable from the manner 
of the narrator, as the conceit of the Hellenist was ludicrous. 
Sir Humphrey told him, that the honour was conferred on no 
foreigners but such as had distinguished themselves in some 
of the branches of science — that he must become a savant — 
write papers, and make himself distinguished. The disap- 
pointed candidate did not take the advice very kindly; and 
replied, that "he thought it very hard that a countryman of , 
Plato and Aristotle should be refused the honour of belonging 
to the Royal Society." An interesting discussion followed 
on the character of the modern Greeks ; and the conversation 
generally was such as might be expected from a party of most 
inteUigent men. To me, it was not a little gratifying, to have 
so favourable an opportunity of studying some of the choicest 
spirits of the age, in their moments of relaxation and free so- 
cial intercourse. My countryman, I am sorry to say, was 
thrown a little off his guard. After dinner, when the enliven- 



ST. MARTIN'S, LUDGATE. 181 

mg qualities of the Port had quickened his powers of enter- 
taining, he became very happy, and discoursed with amazing 
fluency in the midst of a very attentive and admiring circle. 
To Sir James, one of the first jurists in the world, he explain- 
ed an abstruse point of law, with the air of one who knew 
what he was about. The Baronet seemed desirous of being 
further enlightened; and the orator, who by this time had 
drawn the whole company about him, was nothing loth to 
gratify his disciple. If his invention flagged for a moment, 
a wicked question or two, or a demur modestly and diffidently 
expressed, wrought the effect desired — that of drawing forth 
strains of eloquence still more lofty, or disquisitions still more 
profound, to the great edification of the audience. I felt rather 
uncomfortable as may be supposed. Casting an anxious look 
round the company, I observed an appearance of deep and 
respectful attention, though not without certain involuntary 
twitchings of muscles around the region of the mouth, and an 
irrepressible roguishness of eyes, which showed that the lis- 
teners had entered fully into the humour of the moment. 
This was too much. Perspiring with vexation, I took advan- 
tage of a most poetical rhapsody on Patrick Henry, Randolph, 
Wirt, and Pinckney, to make my bow to our host ; and effect- 
ed mj escape, with the most cordial wishes on my part, that I 
may be spared the pleasure of meeting Mr. again in Eng- 
lish society. 

On Ash-Wednesday, I heard the venerable Arch-deacon 
Pott at St. Andrew's, Holborn. He is a tall, spare man, far 
advanced in years, and highly and generally esteemed for 
his exemplary piety. He has no pretensions to eloquence ; his 
voice is feeble and monotonous ; and his delivery wholly with- 
out animation. His published works, however, bespeak him 
the sound, sensible divine. 

The Sunday following, March 7 th, was the day, on which 

my friend Mr. D was appointed to preach a sermon be- 

fore the mayor and sheriffs of London, in aid of the City Dis- 
pensary. I walked through a beating rain to St. Martin'is, 
Ludgate Hill, stepping into St. Paul's till the hour of service 

arrived. To a lover of cathedral music, nothing is more de. 
16 



lo'-i JOURNAL. 

lightful than to linger in the aisles of St Paul's, and listen to 
the choral service reverberated along the arches and pillars 
of this mighty pile. At St. Martin's, I found but a miserable 
congregation, owing probably to the inclemency of the weath- 
er. The Lord Mayor entered, clad in his scarlet cloak and 
tippet, and arrayed in other insignia of his oflfice, preceded by 
vergers, and attended by the sheritTs and subordinate official 
characters. The service was performed by a young man 
with a good voice, but in too inanimate a manner. The ser- 
mon on "the new conmiandment" was highly creditable to 
the preacher. As the procession entered, the organ played 
the grand hallelujah chorus, unaccompanied by voices. St. 
Martin's is a small church, with a single gallery, and two 
transverse arches to support the ceiling, resting on four Ionic 
columns. 

In the afternoon, I stepped into Oxford chapel in front of 
my door, and heard the service worse performed than I re- 
member to have ever Avitnes&ed. The sermon was respecta- 
ble, but delivered to a thin audience ; the weather still contin- 
uing tempestuous. 

During a visit to Dr. G. at Stoke-Newington a few days 

after, I heard from a gentleman present the early history of 
the Bishop of St. David's, which strongly illustrates the ef- 
fect of " time and chance" in placing even a deserving man 
in the way of promotion. The present Bishop of Durham, 
then presiding over the See of Salisbury, happened to be on a 
visit to Dr. Randolph, the master of Corpus Christi ; when 
he mentioned his desire to find a chaplain possessed of good 
talents, of high scholastic attainments, of clerical habits and 
exemplary piety. While he was describing the kind of per- 
son he wished to engage, Mr. Burgess happened to cross the 
quadrangle in front of the window. " There," said Dr. Ran- 
dolph, " is just the man you want. He is a Fellow of our col- 
lege ; and I know he will suit you, for he is all that you des- 
cribe." — The future Bishop was sent for, and introduced ; and 
the acquaintance thus begun led to his appointment to be chap- 
lain to Dr. Barrington, who was afterwards translated to the 
See of Durham. Mr. Burgess' promotion to the deanery of 



CHURCH PATRONAGE. 183 

Durham soon followed ; and becoming known by his writings 
to Lord Sidmouth, who had been his school-fellow at Win- 
chester, he was recommended by him to the vacant See of 
St. David's. His living is one of the poorest in the kingdom ; 
and would be insufficient for his support without the deanery, 
which he still holds. By an act of great generosity, he has 
adopted a plan for improving the revenues of the diocese, at 
the expense of six or eight hundred pounds per annum sub- 
tracted from his income — a sacrifice, of which his successors 
only will reap the benefit. 

It is difficult for us republicans to reconcile the idea of 
chtirch patronage as it exists in England, with our notions of 
propriety or expediency. We cannot conceive why a con- 
gregation should not be allowed a voice in the choice of their 
minister ; nor imagine that such a liberty would be attended 
with greater inconveniences in an established church than in 
our own country, where they are but rarely ariU lightly felt. 
Yet there maybe circumstances to render that inexpedient in 
the one case, which is found to be perfectly safe in the other. 
With us, the salary of a clergyman is dependant on the votes 
of the parish — it is a voluntary contribution, which may be re- 
duced or wholly withdrav/n, whenjae ceases to be acceptable. 
The emoluments of the pastoral office therefore are desirable 
or otherv/ise, as the people are more or less united in their 
minister. Keenly contested elections will be unknown, so 
long as a large majority has the pov/er of withdrawing its sup- 
port from the successful candidate ; and the will to do so, in 
the case supposed, would not be wanting. A good degree of 
unanimity is secured in almost every instance, by the circum- 
stance, that without it, the burthen of the minister's support 
would devolve on a few — to say nothing of the dissensions in 
which the parish would be involved, by proceeding in oppo- 
sition to the wishes of a strong minority. 

But how does the case stand with regard to the Church of 
England ? To the office of pastor, in every church, a salary 
is secured by law, over which the votes of the parish have no 
control. It is a stipend which he is sure to receive, so long- 
as he is the incumbent ; and, in a country v/here there are 



184 JOURNAL. 

more clergymen than livings, it becomes at once an object 
which many are desirous of securing. Did the choice rest 
with the people, great exertions would be made by the friends 
of the different candidates, to gain a majority of votes ; and; 
the parish would be agitated by the disturbances of a violent- 
ly contested election. Had the disaffected the right as with 
us of withdrawing their share of the pastor's support, these 
evils could not happen ; but in an establishment, this check is 
wanting. The stipend cannot be reduced ; and a bare ma- 
jority of votes would put the successful candidate in posses- 
sion of it, however unacceptable he might be to three-eighths 
of the parish. The experiment of leaving to the people the 
choice of their ministers has been made, in some of the newly 
created parishes ; and been followed I am told in nearly eve- 
ry instance by the evils I have mentioned. Even those who 
are not altogether satisfied with many features of the estab- 
ment — who see many things which ought to be reformed, are 
unanimous in deprecating popular elections. Church patron- 
age, or the right vested in one individual, or in some corpo- 
rate body, of nominating a rector to a vacant parish, appears 
to be essential to an established church. If it is an evil in 
England and Scotland, still it could not be dispensed with, 
without introducing evils still more formidable. In America 
it is impracticable ; and if practicable, would be a curse. In- 
many instances, lay. patronage has been acquired by the build- 
ing of a church, or by large pecuniary donations for the ben- 
efit of the parish ; — the right of presenting a rector to the .liv- 
ing being reserved in the family of the benefactor as a con- 
dition of the gift. It is apparent that the spiritual welfare of 
the people will not always be consulted, when the choice of 
their clergyman lies with an individual, who may, or may not, 
be quahfied for so important a trust. But the evil is without 
a remedy except in public opinion, which is growing more 
and more intolerent towards men who disgrace their sacred 
profession ; and operates as a salutary restraint on. lay-pat- 
rons in the exercise of their right. 



PARKS IN LONDON. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



185 



PARKS IN LONDON — VIEW FROM PICCADILLY HYDE PARK REGENTS 

PARK SQUARES — FOUNDLING HOSPITAL CRAVEN CHAPEL THE BA- 
ZAAR ART OF WALKING IN THE METROPOLIS COSTUME OF THE BAR 

ST. MARTIN's-IN-THE-FIELDS RIDE TO LEICESTER DEFORMITY. 

A stranger in the metropolis is surprised at nothing more 
than at the extent of the Parks, which skirt the western and 
north-western borders of the tov/n. Taking the Horse-guards 
as his point of departure, and proceeding in d north-westerly 
direction along St. James' Park, through either Green, or 
Queen's, into Hyde Park and Kensington gardens, which are 
separated only by a low wall, he may walk a distance of three 
miles almost in a straight line, with green turf or gravelled 
walks under his feet, and his head overshadowed by oaks and 
elms. The three first enumerated cannot contain less than 
600 acres. They lie contiguous, and are variously intersect- 
ed by walks and avenues of trees ; and when distant objects 
are obscured by a thick atmosphere — a phenomenon, for 
which it is not usually necessary to wait long — one can easily 
imagine himself transported far from the busy and overgrown 
metropolis, and dropped down in the midst of delightful rural 
scenery. St. James' Park is nearly level ; indeed it was 
once a stagnant and unseemly marsh. It was enclosed by 
the last Henry, who confined the waters, and laid out the 
ground in walks. Charles 11. planted the avenues, and dug 
the canal, which is upwards of half a mile in length, by 
100 feet in breadth. St. James' is used as a parade for the 
foot guards, whose barracks stand at the west end of the 
Park, while the palace appropriated to the horse-guards 
separates it on the east from Parliament street, the great 
thoroughfare between Charing-cross and Westminster. 

Leaving St. Jamep'j you ascend along Green Park towards 
Piccadilly, with noble ihansions rising on your right and 
before you. This small but neat plot of ground, has very few 
16* 



186 JOURNAL. 

trees. Reaching Piccadilly, you turn and look down as from 
a terrace, on one of the most exhilirating prospects imagina- 
ble. You have before you an expanse of many hundred 
acres, with all its delightful walks and shady avenues, — its 
reservoirs and jets d'eau glittering in the sun ; the glancing of 
bright arms through the trees, and squadrons of infantry ma- 
nceuvering on the plain ; ladies and gentlemen, and citizens 
of low degree, on foot, on horse -back, and in vehicles of every 
construction — some single, and some in groups, yet all in 
motion, and imparting life and variety to the scene ; while 
your ear is saluted with bursts of martial music from one 
of the finest bands in the world. Rising over the v/hole, 
and but faintly seen through the soft yellow haze, the Abbey 
heaves aloft its antiquated towers, rich in the associations it 
brings with the events of other days. Let a spectator place 
himself in front of Baring's splendid mansion in Piccadilly, on 
a fine morning in the spring, with his face turned towards the 
south, and he will confess that he has seldom gazed on so 
fair and spirit-stirring a scene. Often have I promenaded 
half the city to revel in the luxuries of the prospect, and as 
often found it still new and beautiful. 

Hyde Park covers near 400 acres. The western part ap- 
pears at a distance like a forest, although on a near ap- 
proach it is found to be but thinly sprinkled with trees. " The 
Serpentine River" must have been so named, from its total 
dissimilarity to the tortuous reptile whose appellation it bears 
— the resemblance being about as striking as that between 
a carpenter's rule and a snake. Its superfluous waters, of 
which there is but a scanty measure, are made to leap down 
an artificial cataract of surprising regularity ; which looks 
more like the deluge occasioned by the upsetting of a tub of 
dirty water at the top of a stair-case, than like any thing in 
nature. But so it is. Man, pent up in the city, has still a 
longing for something rural on which to feast his eyes ; and 
can derive gratification from an awkward imitation, when 
nothing better is at hand. " Expellas naturam" &c. A drove 
of little brown deer strays along the banks of the river ; and 
swans disport themselves on its surface. Both are so tame 



REGENT'S PARK. 187 

as to feed from the passenger's hand. Nothing can be more 
majestically graceful than the swan taking his pastime on the 
bosom of the lake. He throws up his wings, proudly arches 
his neck, and by the strength of his oary feet, propels himself 
through the water with a velocity almost incredible. For a 
considerable distance along the margin of the river, there is 
a sort of strand, or beach of gravel, in imitation, I suppose, 
of the shore of the loud-roaring sea : but here, alas ! the 
waves are scarcely large enough to murmur. The beach, 
however, furnishes an excellent race-ground for the cocknies 
to try the speed of their ponies. 

Regent's Park is yet in an unfinished state ; but promises 
when completed to outvie all the others in picturesque beau- 
ty. Its shape is circular, and it contains about 450 acres. 
A sheet of water, supplied from the Regent's canal, is made 
to wind around a large part of the circumference, and to 
form a variety of inland seas, gulfs, friths, and inlets ; which 
are studded with many an emerald isle and green headland, 
covered with shrubbery. The most beautiful forms of nature 
are here imitated on a reduced scale, and the whole consti- 
tutes a tasteful exhibition of picturesque gardening. Only a 
portion of the area of the park, however, is decorated in this 
manner. It is intersected by various roads, and some beau- 
tiful villas have been erected near the centre. In one part, 
there is a spacious stadium for exercise on horseback, on 
foot, or in carriages ; and on the east side are a riding-school 
and barracks for the accommodation of a regiment of horse. 
The improvements are going on rapidly ; but many years 
will be required for completing the original plan. This park 
is situated in the north-western suburbs of London. Regent 
Circus, at the junction of Portland Place with the New Road, 
is remarkable for the beauty and richness of its cast-iron pa- 
ling, and the chaste style of its buildings. 

The squares in London are highly ornamental, and contri- 
bute greatly to the health and airiness of the town. They 
are of all dimensions, from six acres down to half an acr?. 
Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, and Gray's-Inn-Gardens, afford the most 
delightful walks to the gentlemen of the robe — the latter is 



188 JOURNAL. 

rendered particularly inviting, by the deep retirement and 
shady seclusion of its avenues : while the western quarter of 
the metropolis can boast of many equally beautiful. Grosve- ' 
nor square, Portman, Cavendish, Berkeley, St. James', Han- 
over, Russell, Bedford, Bloomsbury squares, and a great 
many others, are inhabited by the noble and the wealthy, 
during their stay in London. Most of these areas are en- 
closed by an iron paling, laid out in gravelled walks, and 
planted with shrubbery in a very tasteful manner. An eques- 
trian statue of some great man often adorns the centre. The 
squares being private property, the public are not admitted ; 
but the tenants of the neighbouring houses are furnished with 
keys. It is said that the proprietors of the land are rather 
gainers than losers by these reservations — the rents of the 
adjoining building lots being greatly enhanced by the privi- 
lege of using the square being annexed to them. 

On the following Sunday, March 14th, I attended service 
in the morning, at the chapel of the Foundling Hospital ; a 
large and elegant edifice, well replenished by a congregation 
of citizens of the better class. The discourse was neatly 
written, but was deficient in unction and power. Sleeping in 
church is not confined to America. I regretted that my seat 
Tinder the gallery did not allow me a sight of the children, who 
are about 200 in number. Their voices were more tuneful 
than those of most of the charity children I have heard ; and 
the addition of three or four scientific performers rendered 
the music pretty good. The organ is said to have been pre- 
sented by Handel. The altar-piece was the gift of West ; 
and although in his best style, is sufficiently redundant in 
dead brick-colour, to designate it to be his. The gallery 
extends quite round the chapel ; and in the windows over the 
chancel are the armorial bearings of some of the benefactors 
to the foundation. 

I dined with one of those thriving Scotchmen, who wisely 
prefer the grapes of Eshcol and the milk and honey which 
abound in the land of promise in the south of England, to a 
sojourn among their own barren mountains. In the evening, 
we repaired to Craven Chapel, where we heard a faith- 



THE BAZAAR. 189 

fill well-digested discourse, by a Mr. Clayton, who has the 
reputation of being one of the best dissenting preachers in 
London. He used no notes, and spoke with sufficient fluen- 
cy. Occasionally, his attitudes and tones were impressive. 
Sometimes he leaned over the pulpit, and sunk his voice to 
the easy tones and inflections of familiar conversation ; and 
then resumed a manner more dignified and didactic. His 
sermon was too long — he had exhausted his subject in three 
quarters of an hour, but continued his remarks for half an 
hour longer. The audience was very large and attentive. 

Craven chapel is built with that strict attention to the ac- 
commodation of the most numerous audience in the smallest 
space, for which the dissenting houses of worship are remark- 
able. The gallery is deep, and extends quite round ; — or 
more properly, the galleries, for there is a light one near the 
ceiling. The lower one rests on slender cast iron pillars, 
which have been recently adopted in churches to a great ex- 
tent. They have the advantage of combining great strength 
with as little obstruction of prospect as can be attained by 
any method of support. The gown and bands are univer- 
sally worn by the dissenting preachers, so far as my obser- 
vation has extended. Nothing could exceed the pomposity 
of the clerk in giving out the psalms — it was absolute rant. — 
The chapel was built by a public-spirited individual, at an 
expense of £11,000, to be repaid without interest, as soon as 
the congregation should be able to refund it. This is the 
twelfth chapel erected by him, on the same terms. I regret 
that I have forgotten his name ; for christian liberality like 
this deserves the most honourable mention. 

The Bazaar is a suite of rooms in Soho Square, fitted up 
for the sale of fancy goods ; and a very fashionable louuging- 
place it is on a fine morning. The rooms are on the first and 
second floors, and are partly thrown together by the removal 
of the partitions, and lighted by sky -lights. All the worth- 
less elegancies of dress and decoration are here displayed on 
the counters in gaudy profusion, and are served out to cus- 
tomers by about two hundred women and girls — the offi- 
ciating priestesses of this great vanity-fair. Approaching it 



190 JOURNAL. 

on a day when a clear sun has tempted abroad the butterflies 
of the town, you have to thread your way among gUttering 
equipages, and laced footmen, and constables stationed at the 
doors to preserve order. You enter, and look around oil a 
scene, as motley and diversified as it is full of life. Ladies 
of quality and of no quality ; citizens' wives and daughters — 
for your true republican equality is found only in a squeeze ; 
bluff waiting maids with their broad unmeaning faces^ — all 
shoving and sidling up and down the apartment ; and slender 
belles delicately fingering the boquets of flowers fresh from 
Paris — all these, and a hundred other varieties, may be seen 
in this moving panorama. Here, too, you may behold the 
half-pay oflicer, with his chin propped up by a well varnish- 
ed stock — the benedict, who does not exactly know what to 
do with his time ; nor will you overlook the tightlj^-laced dan- 
dy, Avith his fan tailed shallow smartly stuck on one side of 
his bison-head, ogling the fair through his golden-cased eye- 
glass. The Bazaar, in a word, is a fashionable lounge for 
all who have nothing to do except to see and be seen. 

Walking the streets of London with safety and speed, is 
an accomplishment not to be acquired without experience, 
and a diligent use of one's eyes in every direction from which 
danger may be apprehended. Considering the immense num- 
ber of carriages, and the throng of foot passengers, it is sur- 
prising that so few accidents happen. I witnessed one, how- 
ever, a few mornings since, which it was distressing to be- 
hold. A poor women, with a child in her arms, was knocked 
down in crossing a street, and got entangled under the coaoh 
horses, where she was severely bruised before she could be 
rescued. Before the by-standers could sufficiently recover 
their self-recollection to 5'ield her any assistance, a well 
dressed lady actually sprang under the horses and snatched 
away the child, with no small personal risk to herself — a grat- 
ifying^ instance of female intrepidity. 

To observe the apparently reckless manner in which 
coaches are driven, one would imagine they could hardly 
pass the length of a street without causing accidents. But 
pedestrians learn to look to their own safety ; and for this, an 



PROFESSIONAL DRESS. 191 

ever-vigilent circumspection becomes necessary. Were a 
coach to pull up till an opening was made in the throng of 
foot passengers, it would be in the predicament of the clown, 
who waited for the river to run by before he attempted to 
cross. The driver must make his way through, or come to a 
dead stand. If a passenger before him happens to bei natten- 
tive, which is not often the case, he ejaculates his accustomed 
heigh ! in a tone so sharp, as to put the most heedless on their 
guai'd. The streets of London are no place for the reveries 
of an absent man. 

It is one of the peculiar advantages of a great metropolis 
like this, that one need never be at a loss for profitable em- 
ployment, when he has a leisure hour upon his hands. Here 
is congregated whatever is wonderful or instructive in the ope- 
rations of art and of science. In the museums and other pub- 
lic repositories, he may exhaust his attention to any degree 
of fatigue he pleases, 

Among things dreadful, quaint and strange. 

Or, does he delight rather in 



The grand debate. 



The popular harangue, the tart reply. 
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, 

of declaiming politicians, and rival candidates for parliamen- 
tary fame 1 Where can he find them in more intense and per- 
fect exercise, than in the chapel of St. Stephen's ? 

I love in my rambles to step into Lincoln's Inn-Hall, while 
the court of Chancery is in session — not because it is a place 
for the display of forensic eloquence — but because it is the 
highest court in the kingdom for the administration of jus- 
tice ; and on account, perhaps, of certain associations con- 
nected with the place and proceedings. I think I have al- 
ready given my vote in favour of the professional dress of the 
gentlemen of the robe ; although it must be confessed, there 
is something comical in a smooth, rosy, oval face, and auburn 
locks, peeping out from beneath a periwig, curled, powdered, 
and decorated behind with two or three club tails. A young 
pleader was greatly surprised to hear how our American law- 



192 JOURNAL. 

yers dressed ; and could scarcely credit the information, that 
our judges were not distinguished from the common people, 
by any peculiarities of costume. Mr. Jeffery was lately en- 
gaged in pleading a cause at the bar of the House of Lords ; 
but as he did not quite answer the publick expectation, he very 
properly charged his failure on the wig, in which his head 
was for the first time ensconced. It seems they are not ad- 
opted in Scotland as a part of the professional dress. 

Sunday, March 21. — 1 left my lodgings with the intention 
of worshipping in one of the churches in the eastern part of 
the city ; but the rain forced me to take refuge in St. Mar- 
tin's-in-the-Fields, whose merry bells were ringing out the 
hour of service. The hand-bills scattered about the pews 
gave notice, that " the Rt. Rev. the Lord Bishop of Chester 
(Dr. Law,) was to preach a sermon for the London Fever 
Hospital, before his Grace the Duke of Somerset, President, 
the Earl of Egremont, the Lord Bishop of Durham, Lord 
Bexley," &c. Vice Presidents. The preacher was met by 
Archdeacon Pott in the aisle, and conducted to the vestry- 
room, preceded as usual by the vergers with their staves. 
Prayers were read by the Archdeacon, and at the conclusion 
of the service the church was nearly half filled. The res- 
ponses were indifferently made ; but the singing, which was 
performed by a few charity children, was better than usual. 
The preacher delivered a discourse on benevolence, from the 
healing of Peter's wife's mother ; but the sermon contained 
no very striking passages. His action was graceful, and his 
tones and modulations agreeable rather than impressive. 

Havinn- occasion a few days after to visit Leicester, I had 
a walk of about two miles to take before day, to the coach, at 
the Bull-and-mouth Inn in the city. This uncouth name is 
nothing more nor less than a popular corruption of Boulogne 
mouth, or harbour ; which became a favorite sign after the 
conquest of that place in the reign of Henry VIII. A chill, 
ing north-east wind, charged with a full proportion of drizzle, 
afforded no very pleasing omen of the degree of comfort we 
mio^ht expect during our ride ; nor did the reality disappoint 
us. The road through St, Alban's to Northampton was al- 



DEFORMITY. 193 

ready familiar. Harboro', a village of perhaps 2,000 inhab- 
itants, and lying in a valley, was the only place worthy of no- 
tice, which occured in the latter part of our ride. Had I betn 
less chilled by sitting so long in the blast, I should probably 
have admired the fine panorama of Leicester and the adjacent 
countr}^, as viewed from an eminence over which the Lon- 
don road passes : but a ride of a hundred miles in a comfort- 
less drizzle had indisposed us to look out for picturesque beau- 
ties — they were not to be put in competition with the substan- 
tial comforts of the dining room at the " Stag and Pheasant." 
I returned the next day, and over the same road. The top 
of the coach was occupied by a number of young people of 
both sexes. The gentlemen aimed to render themselves ve- 
ry agreeable : but the coarseness, and even indecency, of 
their conversation ; and the unconcern of the fair at hearing 
language to which they ought not to have listened, gave no 
very favorable impression of the purity of rural manners. 

Whenever a coach pulls up in a country village, it is sure 
to attract around it all the jockies, and frequenters of the bar- 
room, and idle fellows in the place ; just as one may see a 
fosse of long-legged Jonathans gathering about a stage at a 
tavern in America. At Redburn, I observed one among 
the idlers who might have sat for Scott's picture of the 
Black Dwarf. His height might have been two or three inch- 
es over four feet ; but with the exception of his legs, his pro- 
portions were those of an ordinary man. Yet he trundled 
back and forth, his hands tucked under his frock, with an air 
which seemed to invite scrutiny. Among the labouring class- 
es here, one may remark a large number of diminutive and 
deformed persons. In London, indeed, almost every twenti- 
eth man seems to have been " curtailed of his fair proportions" 
in coming into the theatre of life, or by some of the accidents 
and calamities which flesh is heir to. The redundancy of such 
in the metropolis may be accounted for in part by the consid- 
eration, that they resort thither from the country for the exer- 
cise of traies and occupations, which require little personal 
activity. 

17 



JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



DRESS OF ENGLISH LABOURERS BEGGARY IN LONDON — DINNER PARTIT 

A.ND ANECDOTES BISHOP OF BRISTOL HO0SE OF LORDS FUNERAL 

OF SIR GEORGE COLLIER CENTRAL ^ATIONAL SCHOOL LORD KEN- 
YON MANNERS OF THE ENGLISH. 

Attachment to ancient customs and fashions however in- 
convenient, is one of the characteristics of the peasantry of 
an dd country. This peculiarity is strikingly displayed in 
the dress of the English peasantry, which, in some respects, 
is as incommodious as it is uncouth. It would be difficult, 
perhaps, to give a good reason, why the nether garment should 
be cut off at the knees ; yet breeches are universally worn 
by the labouring classes. These are commonly of a coarse 
corduroy ; the legs being embraced by sheep-skin gaiters 
reaching from the heels to the ham, and sometimes above the 
knee. Shoes of the most formidable size and weight, stuck 
fell of hob-nails, complete the lower part of the labourer's 
attire. Over his coat, he commonly wears a frock of brown 
linen, gathered on the breast into a vast number of fine plaits 
— the use of which it is difficult to conjecture. 

Most travellers have represented London as swarming 
with beggars ; but whatever may have been the fact once, 
they are far from being numerous at present. Indeed, they 
can hardly be said to exist, except as itinerant musicians, or 
sweepers of cross-walks in the streets. Standing by my win- 
dow one morning, I heard a vile crank-organ grinding most 
dissonant music in the street ; and on looking out, saw a little 
spaniel acting the beggar to good purpose. While his one- 
ej/^ed master performed on his wretched instrument. Tray Scam- 
p&red about, barking under the wmdows with all his might, 
and keeping a sharp look-out for coppers. Feeling a little 
curiosity to know how far his education had been carried, I 
threw him a half-penny, which he caught up in an instant and 
ran with it to his master. The musician bent down to let the 



DINNER PARTY AND ANECDOTES. 195 

dog jump upon the organ, which he carried slung before him ; 
and Tray, having deposited his collection in his master's 
pouch, commenced his solicitations as before. I frequently 
see a blind beggar in Oxford-street, led by a beautiful spaniel, 
who carries a dish in his mouth, and rises gracefully on his 
hind legs to receive your charity. The contrivances of these 
people are often so ingenious as almost to deserve a reward. 

March 27. — At the house of Mr. M , the oriental 

scholar, in Cavendish Square, I met at dinner, among other 
guests, Sir Thomas Winnington, Sir Hugh Dalrymple, and 
Sir George Staunton, son of the Sir George who wrote an 
account of Lord Macartney's Embassy to China. The latter 
was attached to the Embassy, and talked sensibly enough on 
a variety of subjects. They told a story of the Bishop of 

C , which indicated how totally the mind may sometimes 

aberrate, at the moment when self-recollection is most needed. 
In the absence of Sir H. Davy one evening, at a meeting of 
the Royal Society, the good Bishop was called to the chair. 
A Fellow was voted in, and the Chairman began — " In the 
name of the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge" — 
Here he stopped, and tried to recollect the title of the august 
body over which he presided — but in vain. 

Another anecdote was related of Spurzheim the phrenologist. 
The narrator was a member of a club, and happened to come 
in late, while they were talking of the new science — Spurz- 
heim himself being present, and occupying the seat next to 
the one he took. Without knowing who was at his elbow, 
he declared it was all a humbug. " And so you tink dat it is 
all von umbug, do you ?" He turned and saw a stranger — 
the company were all grinning with delight ; and one pf 
them said, — "that. Sir, is Dr. Spurzheim; and after your 
declaration, you can do no less than submit your cranium to 
his inspection. Perhaps he will convince you of the reality 
of the science." There was no backing out : the Dr. finger- 
ed his hum'ps, and said something about de organ of expansive- 
ness, " Please to explain. Doctor, what you mean by ex- 
pansiveness." " Vat do I mean ? Vy I mean dat you ave 
been in de four quarters of de vorl, or dat you vish to go 



196 JOURNAL. 

dere." The former happened to be really the case; and the 
skeptic was abundantly punished for speaking so disrespect- 
fully of the mysteries of the science. The ladies favoured 
the company with some of the airs of Rossini, prettily enough 
played and sung ; and by eleven, the guests began to sepa- 
rate. 

Sunday, 28th. — Hearing that the Bishop of Bristol was to 
preach a charity sermon this morning at Marybone church, 
for the Deaf and Dumb, I went thither in company with an 
American friend. After some waiting we were accommoda- 
ted with a seat, by giving the sexton a shilling as usual. Pray- 
ers were read by Mr. B , who appeared not unconscious 

of the powers of his fine voice, and of his ability to give the 
proper adagio and andante to each part of the service. How 
difficult it is to read the Liturgy of the church well ! To 
impart life and spirit to it, without flippancy — to observe 
the proper inflections without afi^ectation — to give it varie- 
ty without being declamatory, and pathos, without becom- 
ing monotonous ! I have heard it read by young clergymen 
who had taken lessons from some eminent rhetorician ; but 
never wished to hear them again. Rules can do little more 
than teach a reader how to avoid faults ; while deep engaged- 
ness, and a fervent spirit of prayer, must do the rest. With- 
out these, it is impossible to become a good reader of the 
Liturgy. To perform it well, it is necessary to be a religious 
man — to possess a devotional heart. The English clergy 
are generally very correct readers — fine voices are common 
amongst them — their articulation is distinct, and they pro- 
nounce correctly. The deficiency most observable in their 
style of reading is, the want of pathos and feeling ; and yet 
there are many exceptions to this remark, f The sermon of' 
the Bishop was written in a neat, chaste style, highly credita- 
ble to him as a scholar ; but wanting in many of the quali- 
ties of a popular discourse. There was nothing impassioned ; 
there were no bursts of fervid and eloquent feeling ; all was, 
chastened, cold, and didactic. The manner of delivery cor- 
responded with the matter of the sermon ; which was read 
in a calm, level tone of voice, and entirely without action. 
The subject was the reply of our Saviour to the messengers 



HOUSE OF LORDS. 197 

of John — " Go, and tell John the things that ye see and hear. 
The blind receive their sight," &c. Ill health obliged me to 
keep my room in the afternoon, while it was raining and snow- 
ing without. The fickleness of the climate vies with any 
thing ever experienced in New-England, We are swept by 
a perpetual rush of easterly winds ; and have alternations of 
snow and rain, fog and sunshine, many times in the day. 
The quantity of snow which has fallen this winter would 
scarcely make sleighing, if it were all deposited at the same 
time on the ground. 

Having been provided with a ticket of admission to the 
House of Lords, I repaired the next day to Westminster 
Hall. The insolence of under-strappers in office, " dressed 
in a little brief authority," often puts ones patience to the 
test. At the door of the ante-room, I was accosted with — 
" what's your pleasure, Sir," in a tone of ineffable impor- 
tance. " To get admission to the house." — " You cannot be 
admitted till five. Sir." This, I afterwards found was false. 
A crown piece, administered secretly — for the taking of money 
at the door of the Peer's house is expressly forbidden — would 
have facilitated admission, and actually did so to a number, 
whom I found afterwards occupying the best stands at the bar. 
Touched by this magic key, the bolts retire — there are few 
doors in the kingdom which will not fly open on its appliance. 
I killed the intervening hour by wandering about this strange- 
ly agglomerated pile. More than once have I attempted 
without success, to ascertain, by an external survey, which 
was the house of Lords ; and to identify some excrescence 
from the jumbled mass with St. Stephen's Chapel. I believe 
they are visible only from the river. — Returning at five, I 
found an American friend trying to get admission. He had 
forgotten his ticket ; but expressed his surprise that the 
offer of a crown which had been abundantly successful on a 
former occasion, was now rejected. The tender had un. 
luckily been made in the presence of witnesses. We ex- 
pected to have had some interesting debates ; but the bill 
was postponed after a desultory conversation. The Lord 
Chancellor presented a petition from the silk-weavers, to 
17* 



198 JOURNAL. 

which was appended a monstrous roll of parchment incribed 
with the names of the signers. Another conversation ensu- 
ed, in which, Lords Lansdowne, Darnley, Holland, Kings- 
ton, Grosvenor, Bexley, &:c. took a part. Suddenly, a door 
was thrown open in the rear, and a Deputy Usher dashed in 
among us, plebeian spectators. — " Clear away the bar, there." 
The bar was cleared in a moment, and an officer advanced, 
bowing : " My Lord ; a messenger, with papers from his Ma- 
jesty's government in Ireland, waits without." — "Bid him 
come in" — responded the Lord Chancellor. He advanced, 
accompanied by the Uslier with his black rod, stopping and 
bowing profoundly at every second step, till he came to the 
bar. — " What have you got there ?" " Papers, My Lord, 
from the Secretary of his Majesty's government in Ireland." 
" Hand them to the clerk." The messenger having deliver- 
ed his burthen, retreated backwards to the door, stopping and 
bowing as before. The discussions I had listened to were 
too short, to allow any judgment to be formed of the speakers. 
I could not help observing the affected way in which they pro- 
nounce the Avords My Lord. They pronounce them very 
quick, and as if they were written My Lud. The session did 
not continue over an hour. 

March 3L — To-da}-, the funeral of Sir George Collier took 
place at Pancras New Church. It will be recollected that 
he commanded the squadron from which, at the close of the 
late war, the Constitution frigate made her escape with 
her prize, the Cyane. It seems that a Mr. James, a wri- 
ter of naval history, has lately published a book, in which 
the affair is mentioned in terms not creditable to Sir George ; 
whose morbid sensibility was so operated on by this reflec- 
tion on his professional conduct, as to impel him to an act of 
suicide. We now read much, in the public prints, of the 
high and delicate sense of honour in the deceased, which 
could not bear that a shadow of an imputation should rest on 
his professional character. Honour was 'his idol ; and at 
its shrine he fell, a self-immolated victim. In America, one 
in his circumstances would have disproved the offensive par. 
agraph, and restored his tarnished fame, by convincing ar- 



SIR GEORGE COLLIER. 199 

guments enforced at the distance of ten paces. This honour 
is from beneath, and is " earthly, sensual, devilish." Fitzroy 
Street and the neighboring avenues were thronged with car- 
riages ; and at one, the procession bsgan to move towards St. 
Pancras, where the body was deposited in a vault, silently and 
linhonoured. An immense rabble in greasy frocks and aprons, 
wonienof the lowest class, and squalid children and beggars, 
and every thing vile in the shape of humanity, filled the streets 
— all running to see the spectacle. An old beldam I happened 
to overhear in a towering passion that the funeral should be so 
grand. " She didn't know, for her part, what was the mean- 
ing of all this parade ; but if she could have her will, every 
body should be buried alike. She'd warrant there wouldn't 
be sich a mighty difference when they got to t'other 
world ; and she thought it a shame that great folks should 
tost their heads and feel so grand, and have sich mighty fine 
funerals," &;c. I could not help thinking, that if this poor 
wretch could have looked into the hearts of the chief mourn- 
ers, she would have seen the least possible reason for the bit- 
ter envy she betrayed. How difficult it is for the uneduca- 
ted poor to believe, that those who occupy a higher station in 
society are not happy, in proportion to their wealth and dis- 
tinction ! The idea never enters their narrow minds, that 
lordly bosoms often throb with anguish more intense than they 
can possibly feel. They suppose, that to dress elegantly 
and to fare sumptuously every day, is a cure for all ills ; and 
that the loss of friends, under circumstances however distress, 
ing, is abundantly compensated by a grand funeral. 

April 2. — After breakfast, one of the patrons of the Central 
National School took me to view the institution, conducted on 
the principles of Dr. Bell. The discipline of this system is 
so watchful — the visitation on the unlucky boy who happens 
to blunder on a word, or hesitates for an answer, is so prompt 
and instantaneous, that the most indolent cannot avoid giving 
attention ; at the same time, more judgment is required in its 
administration, than it is allowable, perhaps, to expect in mere 
boys. A mistake which is followable by instant degradation, 
is apt to produce a hurry and confusion of ideas io sexisitive 



200 JOURNAL. 

minds, which will probably cause them to blunder in tiie next 
attempt, and the next, each of which is followed by degrada- 
tion in a moment to a lower place. I repeatedly observed the 
operation of this, during my stay in the school-room ; and it 
must be confessed to be rafher trying to the feelings of a boy, 
conscious of being master of his lesson, to be sent rapidly 
from the head to nearly the foot of his class, and in the pres- 
ence of visiters, merely because he has less firmness of nerve 
than his companions. It forms, perhaps, one of the princi- 
pal objections — not to the system itself, which is capable of 
any modification — but to a too severe mode of administering 

• it, which depends much on the judgment of the monitors. It 
is evident that great reliance cannot be placed on the discre- 
tion of lads twelve or fourteen years of age. At the same 
time, I confess I never heard better reading, or witnessed an 
equal readiness in children of that age, in the various studies, 
than among the pupils of the Central National School. Two 
large rooms, lighted through the roof, are appropriated, the 
one to the girls and the other to the boys. They are arrang- 
ed by classes in hollow squares, within which the monitor- 
has his station. The discipline is so vigilant, that whispering 
or play of any sort is out of the question. 

The person to whose attention I was indebted for an intro- 
duction to the school, the head one of a system whose rami- 

, fications extend all over the realm, was Lord Kenyon, one of 
the most zealous and active patrons of every project for doing 
good. He is one of a numerous class of exalted individuals in 
this island, who devote their time, and talents, and no small 
portion of their income, to works of benevolence, and those 
more particularly, which have for their object the moral and 
religious improvement of the lower classes. Few men take a 

more lively interest in plans of this kind than Lord K . 

His manner is cordial and engaging, and without the distance 
and reserve, which are generally attributed, though often 
without foundation, to men of rank. He converses rap- 
idly, and with great good sense ; and exhibits a large share of^ 
practical knowledge of men. While — thanks to the journal- 
ists and caterers for a vitiated public taste — the faux pas and 



ENGLISH MANNERS. 



201 



mad extravagances of every worthless sprig of nobility are 
faithfully recorded for our edification ; we hear little of the 
good deeds of those excellent men, who employ the influence 
they derive from their high birth, cultivated talents, and large 
estates, in rendering the world more virtuous and more hap- 
py. The worst characters make the most noise in the world t 
while the praise of virtuous action is commonly bounded by a 
very limited sphere. Hence the conclusion is too hastily 
drawn, that the titled classes in England are generally devo- 
ted to dissipation and vice — an opinion which, I am satisfied, 
is far from doing them justice. 

The complaints, which some English travellers have en- 
tered against the coldness and reserve of American ladies 
towards strangers, may apply to English gentlemen, on their 
first introduction to a new acquaintance. It is seldom that 
an Englishman extends his hand ta a stranger who is pre- 
sented to him. He bows slightly and formally, and with a 
grave composure of his features ; which produces rather a re- 
pulsive effect, until you recollect that such is the manner of 
the English, and that it does not necessarily infer unkindness. 
It is not till after two or three interviews, and you have been 
admitted to the hospitality of his fireside, that you give him 
credit for all the warmlh of feeling which he really possess, 
es. Introductions are not common, even when a number of 
guests, strangers to each other, are dining together. The 
name of each is announced by the servant as he enters the 
room ; and his being invited by the entertainer is vmderstood 
by the other guests as a proof, that they are proper society 
for each other. He is thus spared the tiresome, and some- 
what embarrassing operation, of being presented to a dozen 
persons in succession, the object or convenience of which 
formality it is difficult to understand. 

It is amusing to mark the sUght differences in the customs 
of two nations, so nearly resembling each other as England 
and America. Some of them are temporary, and vary with 
the varying fashions of the day. For instance — it is not the 
fashion for a gentleman, when he is invited to dinner, to leave 
his hat in the hall ; he must keep it under his arm, like an 



202 ^ JOURNAL. 

acquaiatance who " has just dropp'd in for a moment ;" and 
when dinner is announced, pitch it into a corner or under a 
chair, as he is about to offer his arm to escort a lady to the 
dining room. Boots and trowsers are forbidden at dinner- 
parties, in good society ; the gentlemen being expected to ap- 
pear on such occasions in lull dress, i The eccentric Mr. 

R of Virginia is said to have given great offence at some 

of the tables to which he was invited in England, by presenting 
himself in his long drab gaiters and hob-nail shoes. Common 
politeness demands that we should not requite the hospitality 
voluntarily tendered to us, by affecting a marked contempt for 
the innocent customs of the country. At a house where I 
once dined, some of the guests made their appearance in a 
court dress ; i. e. in long single-breasted coats with broad 
flaps, large gold shoe-buckles, and a chapeau bras, which last 
is certainly a much more portable article than a fashionable 
bell-crown. A dress sword was appended to the side of one 
of the visiters, but was soon deposited on the sofa. 



CHAPTER XX. 



-HOUSE OF LORDS UNITARIAN BILL--LORDS LANDSDOWNE KING KINGS- 
TON, &C. LORD HOLLAND ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY EARL OF 

WESTMORELAND EARL OF LIVERPOOL LORD ELDON DUKE OF YORK 

DUKE OF WELLINGTON REPORTERS ELOaUENCE OF THE ENGLISH. 

April 2. — To-day, a bill for the relief of the consciences 
of the Unitarian dissenters, in the article of marriage, has 
been under discussion in the House of Lords, in which most 
of the prominent members took a part. The bill was framed 
on the petition of the Unitarians, to be allowed to have the 
ceremony performed by their own preachers, on the ground 
that the marriage service of the Church of England recogni- 
zed the doctrine of the Trinity, to which they could not 



HOUSE OF COMMONS. 203 

subscribe. I was fortunate enough to get a good post near 

the bar, andhsterxed with interest to a very animated debate, 

r 

The Marquis of Lansdowne was first on the floor, and must 

be regarded, on the whole, as a good speaker. His lan- 
guage is classical and well-chosen — his sentences perfect, if 
the hearer will have the patience to trace them through their 
long and intricate mazes — he rarely proses ; and although, 
in the beginning of a long and involved sentence, he often 
appears to be at a loss himself how it will end, yet if you 
will wait to hear him out, you are pretty sure of being re- 
warded for your attention. His style appears to have been 
formed on that of Pitt, and is persuasive rather than ener- 
getic. Occasionally he is vehement, but the vehemence is 
more in the manner than in the matter. His action, of which 
he uses a good deal, is not altogether wanting in grace. He 
has a way of slapping the back of one hand in the palm of 
the other, which is his most common gesture ; and there is 
a slight impediment in his speech, not quite amounting to a 
lisp. In stature, he is low, square, and strongly built ; with 
a large face not particularly marked by expression. The 
bill under discussion was introduced by him, and advocated 
in a speech of moderate length. He was followed, on the 
same side, by 

Lord King. This peer, who is often on his feet, seems to 
have no object but to say sarcastic, malicious things ; and 
is often very flat. Failure does not appal him. He goes on 
from one bad joke to another, and in trying to be witty, only 
renders himself ridiculous. He is evidently not much listen- 
ed to — the house having probably learned, by long experience, 
that his remarks neither illustrate nor help forward the mat- 
ter under debate. Lord King is tall and slender in person,^ 
with a long head and high forehead. 

The Earl of Kingston is a huge, overgrown, apoplectick 
Irish peer, with his chin and throat wrapped in a mighty pair of 
black whiskers. His intellect is slow and heavy, and seems in- 
capable of attaining any thing like clearness of apprehension. 
In the early part of the evening, he presented a number of 
petitions against the tithe system in Ireland, and attempted 



204 JOURNAL. 

to support them by some remarks of his own. One obser- 
vation he repeated three times — that he thought the Irish 
protestants were right in preferring going to mass, to going 
nowhere at all. 

Lord Darnley (Clifton) talks moderately well, but has no 
pretentions to oratory. When animated, his articulation is 
indistinct, so much so as to be almost unintelligible. 

The Earl of Clare (Lord Fitzgibbon) is also an Irish Lord 
— a little sprightly man, with a swarthy, pleasant visage. He 
delivered a short speech on the Irish tithes, not characteri- 
zed by any great degree of force, but fluent, and not wanting 
in good sense. 

Lord Calihorpe is well known by the active part he takes 
in the various charitable and religious associations of the day. 
In offering his sentiments on the Unitarian bill, he exhibited 
traits of a well cultivated mind ; and is, on the whole, a pleas- 
ing speaker, notwithstanding a degree of nervousness and 
hesitation in his deliveiy. He is rather small in person, with 
an agreeable expression of countenance. His age may be 
thirty-five. 

Lord Holland is, at present, one of the most distinguished 
members of the opposition — not so much, I should conceive, 
from any profound and laborious attention to business, as on 
account of his dashing, reckless warfare against the ministry, 
in which he seems to take a heart-felt delight. A libertine in 
his morals, it was perhaps hardly fit that he should take a 
very conspicuous part in discussing articles of religious faith ; 
but a tempting occasion was presented for being a little sar- 
castic on the lawn sleeves, and adding an item to his cele- 
brity. The manner of Lord Holland is unique. He speaks 
fluently enough when calm ; but stammers and hesitates in- 
credibly, when he becomes animated with the debate. In 
rounding off" a a period, he boggles on the last member of the 
sentence — repeating or rather trying to repeat it, over and 
over, and bending his body forward as if to disgorge the 
words which stuck in his throat. When about to utter a wit- 
ty jest or a sarcasm, he throws back his coat— sets his arms 
a-kimbo— drops his head on one shoulder — turns round with 



HOUSE OF LORDS. 205 

his face almost to the wall — tosses out his arm with a flirt and 
a flourish — ^looks up towards the ceiling — draws a long hard 
breath between his teeth ; and would go on admirably well, 
if his stammering did not disconcert all his fine attitudes, and 
oblige him to push out his words at some rate or other. Yet 
with all these defects, he is a pretty successful mimick, and 
has a happy talent at ridiculing a political adversary. Two 
of the venerable Bishops had a little touch of his ability this 
way ; nor did he wholly spare " the noble and learned lord 
on the wool-sack." 

Lord Holland is apparently about sixty, rather corpulent, 
and so infirm with the gout as to require the aid of a staflfin 
hobbling about. There is a striking family likeness between 
him, and the busts of Charles Fox, who was uncle to the 
present Lord H. All the above members belong to the op- 
position. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury took a part in the debate, 
and spoke for ten or fifteen minutes in favour of the passage 
of the bill, with certain modifications. His Grace possesses 
the advantage of a fine person, and speaks with much ele- 
gance, in an easy, flowing style. His voice is flexible and 
melodious, and its modulations fall with a remarkably pleas- 
ing effect on the ear. But his manner is perhaps too studied 
— too uniformly graceful, to move an audience strongly. 

The Bishops of London and Chester also mingled in the dis- 
cussion — ^the former in favour of, and the latter against the 
principle of the bill. But the spirits of Horsley and Shiply 
are fled. The Bishop of Peterboro' is said to be the best 
parliamentary speaker on the bench ; but he was not present. 
These representatives of the church rarely take a part in the 
discussions, unless when they relate to ecclesiastical affairs. 
Few of them indeed attend on other occasions. 

The Earl of Westmoreland, a small, spare, aged man, vi. 
olently opposed the passage of the bill in a short speech, 
but with little intellectual vigour. His delivery was singu- 
larly ungraceful. 

The Earl of Harrowby, President of the Council, is tall and 
slender, with small but animated features, and speaks with a 
18 



206 JOURNAL. 

good degree of rhetorical fire. His voice, naturally shrill and 
harsh, is often carried to so high a pitch as to become un- 
pleasant. His speech was short, but to the purpose, and re- 
plete with good sense. 

The Earl of Liverpool. — A stranger, in the least acquainted 
with the political events of the last ten years, must naturally 
wish to see and hear the Premier, who has safely piloted the 
vessel of state through the tempests which agitated all Europe. 
As he was several times on the floor, my curiosity was fully 
gratified. Lord L. is a little below the middling stature, with 
a full deep chest ; and exhibits features marked by some de. 
gree of singularity. His eyes are prominent and far apart, 
and the lines of vision appear to diverge ; but notwithstand- 
ing this defect, and the prominence of his nose and lips which 
are of the Roman cast, the general expression of his counte- 
nance is pleasing. The top of his head is bald, with a little 
fringe of hair along the upper line of his forehead. He is 
an animated and highly agreeable speaker ; but like many of 
his compeers, he often hesitates, repeating many of his words, 
and sometimes a whole clause of a sentence. This fault is 
indeed so common that it can hardly be considered as a pe- 
culiarity in the House of Lords. Lord L. uses considera- 
ble gesture, but without much attention to grace or variety, 
the most common one being that of slapping his hand on the 
pile of papers before him. He may perhaps be reckoned 
the best orator in the house. If Lord Lansdowne is more 
fluent, he has also less thought, which he is apt to spread 
over too large a surface. 

TJie Lord Chancellor's opposition to the bill was known 
to be so determined, that it was generally expected he would 
speak against it ; and I accordingly had the satisfaction of 
seeing him leave the wool-sack, and walk round to the side 
of the table. He began in a low and measured tone, but 
soon kindled into a vehemence which savoured more of pas- 
sion than of rhetorical warmth. I was prepared to expect an 
able speech ; but was disappointed : it was neither calm, nor 
dignified, nor very pregnant with reason, although it had some 
law in it. He declared he would oppose it, and with all 



REPORTERS. 



Wl 



his might, to the last — gave a thump on the table with his 
fist, and wheeled off on his heel to the woolsack. His ene- 
mies affirm that his intellectual vigour is not equal to what it 
once was. 

The Duke of York presented his ample, rotund figure, and 
shining pate, in the course of the evening, and staid for an 
hour or two. For so large a man, he moves with surpri- 
sing agility. 

The Duke of Wellington was also present, but took no part 
in the debate. Few of the engraved portraits we see in 
America resemble him. He is a small, spare figure, with 
hair grey and thin ; and carries his head a little on one side 
like the hero of Macedon. There is nothing in his person- 
al appearance to indicate the successful antagonist of Soult 
and Massena, or the victor of Waterloo. There is a certain 
expression about the region of his mouth which is far from 
being agreeable. 

The peers were dressed like other gentlemen, except that 
in a few instances I observed a star glittering on the breast 
of a coat. It is only on some state occasion that they ap- 
pear in the dress of their order. 

Among the spectators below the bar were ten or a dozen 
Reporters, very busily employed in taking notes of the de- 
bate, for the public papers. They do not stay out the dis- 
cussion. Each one retires, after an attendance of half an 
hour or an hour, to write out the speeches for the press ; and 
his place is supplied by another from the same establishment. 
In this way, the report which appears the next day is the 
work of many hands. As I stood quite in the midst of them, 
I had a fair opportunity of witnessing their performances, 
and observed that they did not put down a twentieth part of 
the speaker's remarks. They minute down the heads of the 
principal arguments, and now and then a remarkable ex- 
pression ; and write out the speeches afterwards — imitating 
the general style of the orator, which, by long practice, 
they are enabled to do. Only two or three of them wrote in 
short hand. Each one has a little blank book, and holds in 
his left hand half a dozen ready sharpened pencils, which he 



208 



JOURNAL. 



uses with great celerity. They appear to pay Uttle attention 
to the debates unless a prime orator happens to be on his 
feet, and are engaged in conversation among themselves. It 
often happened that an important remark or a happy expres- 
sion was lost through inattention. In such cases, they collected 
the sense from one another as well as they could, and scrib- 
bled it down at second hand. On examining their reports, 
as they appeared in the papers the next day, I found the sub- 
stance of the different speeches, and occasionally a sentence 
nearly in the form in Avhich it was delivered : the rest was 
filled up from the memory or the imagination of the report- 
er, although the speeches bore a general resemblance to their 
originals. In many cases, a speech of a quarter of an hour 
was condensed into three or four sentences. 

This rather minute account of the labours of these gentle- 
men may perhaps not be thought superfluous, when it is con- 
sidered that they are the only recorders of the far famed 
eloquence of the British parliament. To the best of their 
originals, they do far less than justice ; and some of the hap- 
piest turns of expression lose all their ethereal spirit, in the 
process of transcribing. How imperfect an idea can be form- 
ed of Chatham's vehemence — of the irritating sarcasms of 
Brougham, or of the felicitous wit of Canning, by reading 
the speeches which have been given to the world as theirs ! 
They are " like water spilled upon the ground, which cannot 
be gathered." 

It is often said, that bold and impassioned oratory is not 
congenial with the taste of the English people. This, I am 
convinced, is a mistake ; and one has only to read the most 
admired productions of the orators of the latter part of the 
last century — of Chatham, Sheridan, and Burke, for instance, 
to be convinced of it. Nothing can be more unlike, howev- 
er, ih.QXii]\Q forensic mxA parliamentary eloquence of this coun- 
try. The first is generally cold, passionless, and argument- 
ative : at least, I have as yet heard nothing which deserved 
the name of oratory, in the courts of justice. Nearly the 
same may be said of the eloquence of the pulpit — there is 
little oratory amongst them. It is a teacher reading lectures 



INDIA HOUSE. ^ 209 

to his pupils, in such a style as Malthus would use in lectur- 
ing on population, or Ricardo on political economy, or a Law 
professor on the principles of law — cold, intellectual and di- 
dactic. I mean this of course with some honourable excep- 
tions. — Now, to say that the taste of the English people will 
tolerate nothing higher than this, is to fly in the face of facts. 
Neither Wesley nor Whitfield addressed their audiences with 
more vehemence, with more boldness of metaphor, or energy 
of tone and action, than may be witnessed at every session 
of parliament, and from orators of established fame. It is 
certain, too, that the preachers who are most followed by 
high and low, are as much distinguished by bold conceptions, 
strong language, and an animated elocution, as by any other 
quality ; and if a portion of the members of the establishment 
are still wedded to the old, lecturing, moralizing style of pul- 
pit instruction, it is, I will venture to say, a prejudice, arising 
perhaps from the extravagances which have prevailed among 
some of the dissenters. Human nature in England, and in 
America too, is the same that it is all the world over. It loves 
to be strongly moved, whatever the subject may be ; and when 
left to its own unbiassed decisions, will always prefer that 
style of pulpit address, which blends a good degree of ear- 
nestness, and feeling, and imagination, with the argumentative 
and didactic. 



CHAPTER XXL 



INDIA HOUSE ST. OLAVE S CHARITV CHILDaEN OF ST. SEPULCHRE S 

ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY LAMBETH PALACE BRITISH INSTI- 
TUTION BEDFORD CHAPEL ARCHBISHOP OF YORK BISHOP OF LON- 
DON DEAN ANDREWES DR. HODGSON PROMENADE IN HYDE 

PARK. 

Saturday, April 3. — There is a collection of Oriental curi- 
osities well worth seeing, at the India House in Leadenhali 
street, consisting of manuscripts and other articles gathered 
18* 



310 JOURNAL. 

from the Company's possessions in India. After devoting a 
morning to their inspection, I have brought away but a con- 
fused recollection of what I have seen, as usually happens af- 
ter a visit to a collection of this nature. Every visiter, how- 
ever, will remember the tiger's head of pure beaten gold, as 
large as life, which stood originally at the foot of Tippoo 
Saib's throne. The eyes and teeth are of rock-crystal, beau- 
tifully wrought and polished, and set with exquisite art. The 
room contains a great variety of many-headed idols, princi- 
pally in marble, shadowing forth the mysteries of the Hindoo 
mythology. Here, too, are numerous collections of Orien- 
tal birds of beautiful plumage, and forms unknown in our 
western world — of beasts and reptiles ; Chinese gardens in 
porcelain, — pieces of armour, &c., but too badly arranged to 
be advantageously seen. 

On the following Sunday I went to St. Olave's, in hopes 

of hearing Dr. K , the Rector of the church, who has the 

reputation of being an excellent preacher ; but his pulpit was 
occupied by a stranger, who preached an indifferently good 
sermon. The prayers were read by Dr. K. v/ith remarkable 
devotion and effect ; but the singing was scarcely entitled to 
the, name. A moderately numerous congregation was as- 
sembled. On my way to church I had to cross London 
Bridge, and had again an opportunity of seeing the effect of 
the tide on the current between the piers. London Bridge is 
the oldest and least elegant of the numerous structures across 
the Thames. Its arches are of unequal span — some of them 
are pointed, and others circular ; and so very numerous that 
the piers by which they are supported occupy nearly half the 
breadth of the river. The tide is proportionally obstructed ; 
and at certain periods of the ebb and flow, rushes through the 
arches like the sluice of a mill-pond, roaring and foaming 
with great violence. It was at the height of its rage as I 
crossed it this morning. — In the afternoon, I attended ser- 
vice at the Church of St. George the Martyr, in Queen 
Square. The service is generally very well perforipied; in 
this church, and the congregation numerous. 

The-P,ext day, I went with the Rev. Mr. H. and his lady 



CHARITY CHILDREN. 211 

to attend an examination of the charity girls of St. Sepulchre's. 
It was a novel and striking spectacle. Near the pulpit and in 
the aisle, which is very broad, seven or eight seats were dis- 
posed like stairs one above another, for the accommodation of 
the children. There they were seated in their usual dress, 
consisting of a snug cap closely fitting the head, blue frock, 
round white handkerchief, and white apron. Their appear- 
ance was singularly neat and becoming. The ladies of the 
committee were introduced from the vestry, preceded by a 
number of gentlemen, with Sir Charles Price at their head ; 
and took their seat near the children. The organ then com- 
menced playing " Lord of all power and might," which was 
sung by the children in their places. The anthem being 
concluded, one of them pronounced the words, " let us pray." 
Instantly, they all raised their aprons to their faces, while she 
pronounced, with distinctness and solemnity, a few appropri- 
ate collects, and a prayer suited to the occasion. Another 
then announced, in a set speech, the object of the meeting, 
which was, to hear them examined in the church catechism 
enlarged by suitable explanations. The examination then 
began, and was wholly conducted among themselves by ques- 
tion and answer. No book was used, nor was the least 
prompting necessary ; and although the exercise was pro- 
longed for two hours, there was neither blunder nor hesita- 
tion through the whole time. The children stood motionless 
as statues, looking straight forward, with their arms crossed ; 
and it v/as often difficult to perceive from whom the voice 
proceeded, as no apparent order was observed. The explan- 
atory parts were interspersed with moral and practical re- 
flections, and were generally concluded with a few appropri- 
ate verses of a hymn sung by the children. What I greatly 
admired was the extreme beauty and propriety of their pro- 
nunciation, to which we in America pay so little attention in 
our schools. The examination was followed by a prayer 
pronounced as before, the speaker alone remaining uncover- 
ed — then a hymn ; and last of all, a poetical address to the 
" Benefactors" of the school. — Sir Charles Price then ad- 
dressed the numerous audience, stating, that for the gratify- 



212 JOURNAL. 

ing spectacle they had witnessed, they were wholly indebted 
to the charity of individuals, by whose voluntary contribu- 
tions the children had been clothed, fed, and instructed ; and 
concluded with a few words of advice to the children them- 
selves, who, it appeared, were about to leave the school. 
The number, for some reason which I do not understand, is 
always fifty-one. This charily school is said to be the oldest 
in the metropolis, it having existed for more than a century. 
The children are selected from the poorest families, and are 
bound out to service or otherwise provided for, when they 
leave the school. 

Friday, April 9th. — I had this morning the honour of pay- 
ing my respects to the Archbishop of Canterbury. On ring- 
ing the bell at Lambeth Palace, a porter appeared and took 
my card ; after some delay, I was conducted across a small 
paved court to the hall, a lofty, Gothic, dreary looking apart- 
ment. A passage led by various doublings to a stair-case, 
where I was delivered in charge to a servant, whom I follow." 
ed through a long, lofty banqueting room in which I deposited 
my hat and umbrella, to an ante-room hung with red cloth, 
and furnished v/ith crimson chairs, sofas, &c. Here I found 
one or two gentlemen in attendance like myself, waiting to 
be admitted in their turn. The servant delivered my card 
to another in immediate attendance on his Grace ; and during 
the half hour of my waiting, I had leisure to observe, among 
the decorations of the room, a fine bust of Pitt in marble. 
At length I was introduced into the library, where the Pri- 
mate was standing before the fire. A large table in the mid- 
dle of the apartment was covered with books, pamphlets, and 
loose papers, in an admirable state of disarray, such as be- 
fits the study of an ecclesiastick. 

The Archbishop is apparently about sixty years of age, 
rather tall and slender in his person, with good, regular, and 
even handsome features, but care-worn and sallow. He was 
habited in the usual dress of a Bishop, which need not be 
again described. I observed a certain dignity and grace in 
his manners, which marked the accomplished gentleman, as 
well as the dignified ecclesiastick. The conversation was 



BRITISH INSTITUTION. 213 

short, but he expressed himself with great ease and propriety, 
and with a certain tact, which can be acquired only by long 
intercourse and collision with highly cultivated minds. 

Being desirous of observing one point of good manners, 
at least, I soon made my bow and retired. In threading the 
doublings and turnings about the great hall, there was such 
a variety of doors, and courts, and passages, and stair-cases, 
that I was more than once obliged to retrace my steps and 
make a new essay. Nothing can be more irregular than this 
venerable pile, which was erected at different periods, and 
presents every variety of architecture. It is generally of 
brick ; and when seen from certain points, particularly from 
the river, presents a picturesque, if not a very magnificent ap- 
pearance. 

I went one day to take a survey of the pictures in the 
" British Institution" in Pall Mall ; and soon after, repeated 
my visit. This was estabUshed in 1805, for the exhibition of 
the works of native artists, whether in painting or in sculp- 
ture. The result of these lounges ia the gallery has not been 
the adoption of a very high opinion of living British genius, 
at least in the department of historical painting ; for in land- 
scape, I saw much to admire. One of the best in the whole 
collection, consisting of near four hundred subjects, if not the 
very best, is the monkey using the cat's paw, by Landseer. 
This is altogether an admirable thing — every hair is finished 
by a separate stroke of the pencil, and the conception of the 
piece shows a close and accurate observer of nature. Two 
other pieces by the same artist also possess great merit. 
One of them representing a group of itinerent musicians, is 
only a few inches square ; but the monkey with a trumpet in 
his hand, out of which he is pulling straw, is painted to the 
life. Landseer is said to excel in his representations of an- 
imals, and in the minute accuracy of his finishing. — Two 
pieces by Sir William Beechey — the one a representation of 
Psyche, and the other of Venus chiding Cupid, are quite rosy 
and transparent, — perhaps too much so ; the former I thought 
exquisite. Psyche visiting Cupid asleep, by Richard Wes- 
tall, is in the same style. " The social pinch," by Fraser, is 



214 JOURNAL. 

after Wilkie's manner, and is admirably done. A cobbler is 
sitting at work in his stall, and an auV frin', for they are 
Scotch, tenders him a social pinch from his horn. This 
piece is finished with great minuteness. 

Among the larger pieces is one of Comus, and the lady in 
the enchanted chair, by Hilton, the design of which is very 
good, but the colouring indifferent — Bottom and Titania, by 
H. Singleton, very well — Ossian, by Drummond, badly col- 
cured — Adam and Eve lamenting over the body of Abel, by 
Wood, a very creditable picture — Syrinx, by Martyn, with a 
sky as blue as indigo, and distant mountains of the same 
hue — Christ crowned with thorns, by Richard Westall, 
very bad — Abraham sending away Hagar, by Henry Jones, 
the drawing of which is just, but the colouring harsh ; and the 
Pool of Bethesda, by the two Foggos, more like Cartoons 
than painting in oil, but one of the best in the collection for 
conception and drawing. The impotent man lies on the mar- 
gin of the pool, into which he is pointing, and saying to our 
Saviour at the same time, " I have no man, when the water 
is troubled, to put me into the pool." On the other side, a 
poor cripple, partly by his own exertions, and partly by the 
help of an attendant, is stepping in ; but casts a diffident, 
wishful look at our Saviour, as if he felt it wrong to deprive 
others of the blessing he was about to enjoy. The attitudes 
of the other " impotent folk" are well conceived, and their 
different maladies so well characterized, that notwithstanding 
the faded, pale, yellow colouring, and a little too much cramp- 
ing of fingers, it would be unjust to deny that the picture pos- 
sessed considerable merit. — A bewildered unfortunate with 
her child in a snow-storm, by Drummond, was so bad, that I 
took it at first for a contemplation of the starry heavens. 
There was put one piece of sculpture in marble, an Arethu- 
sa by Carew^ — a light, elegant, and very prettily executed 
figure, holding a grey-hound by a leash ; the rest were coarse 
casts in plaster, and but few in number. By far the greater 
proportion of the paintings are landscapes ; and in general, 
as good as the others are execrable. Landscape painting is, 
in fact, a much lower department of the art than historical, 



ARCHBISHOP OF YORK. 215 

or even than portrait painting ; and almost any true lover of 
nature, I should apprehend, might excel in it. But judging 
by the contents of the British Gallery, historical painting is 
not at present in a very promising way ; and it is a little re- 
markable, that some of the best pictures in it were executed 
by artists with foreign names. 

Sunday, April 11. — The weather for a month past has been 
excessively raw and disagreeable, and not unlike a March in 
New-England. To-day, more snow has fallen than at any 
one time during the past winter ; the roofs are white with 
it, but it has melted in the streets. At no time have I seen 
the ground completely covered. In the morning, I attended 
service in Oxford Street Chapel, in front of my lodgings, and 
heard a moral essay indifferently read, by an elderly clergy- 
man. Matters were still worse in the afternoon, at Bedford 
Chapel, which appeared, by the style of trimmings in the 
pews, and the extreme thinness of the congregation, to be a 
house of prayer for " the better sort of people." The read- 
er of the service gave a weary yawn, by way of prelude to 
the commencement of his performance — a piece of indeco- 
rum which I never witnessed before, and hope never to see 
again. He read the prayers in a way precisely the easiest 
to himself, and best calculated to despatch the job in the 
shortest time — i. e. by drawing in a long breath, and hurry- 
ing on in a low inaudible voice, till the supply of wind was 
exhausted. The effect could not be otherwise than disgust- 
ing. ■ 

Tuesday, April 13. — Having occasion to wait on the 
Archbishop of York, I called this morning at his house in 
Grosvenor Square. I sent in my card ; and while waiting 
in the parlour, I was joined by a tall, ungainly country par- 
son, of singularly embarrassed and uncouth manners. He 
accosted me in a broad dialect, which was sometimes 
scarcely intelligible ; but our conversation was suddenly in- 
terrupted by the entrance of his Grace. My companion 
being taken by surprise, bounced out of his chair — made 
three or four long strides in advance — threw out his hand 
before him, and made a profound conge', in a style that would 



216' JOURNAL. 

have given Chesterfield the horrors. His suit being disposed 
of, the Archbishop came towards me with my card in his 
hand. He conversed agreeably, and his manner was at 
once poUte and dignified. Having accoinplished the object 
of my call, I made my bow and proceeded to the house of 
the Bishop of London, in St. James' Square. He was pre- 
paring to ride out, and his carriage was waiting at the door ; 
but he was kind enough to detain me for half an hour, in con- 
versation on literary and ecclesiastical matters in the United 
States. He thought we should seethe expediency of crea- 
ting an archbishoprick, as the church increased — a measure, 
which I represented as neither practicable nor desirable ; 
our present ecclesiastical constitution being the best adapted 
to our form of civil government. He referred to the metropo- 
litans of the early church, as affording an example in point ; 
while I went back to a still earlier period, when all the bish- 
ops were on a footing of equality, like the angels of the seven 
churches in Asia. This original parity of rank he conceded ; 
and acknowledged also, that the encroachments of some of 
the city bishops on the independence of those in the provin- 
ces, began before the reign of Constantino. The conversa- 
tion was long, and to me highly interesting ; and impressed 
me with sentiments of increased respect for this amiable and 
excellent prelate. 

Dr. Andrewes, Dean of Canterbury, and rector of St. 
James', is reckoned one of the best preachers of the Estab- 
lished church in the metropolis. I had been disappointed, 
hitherto, in my attempts to hear him ; but was so fortunate 
as to find him in his pulpit on the morning of Good Friday. 
Notwithstanding the extreme unpleasantness of the weather, 
the church was full in every part ; and it was with some dif- 
ficulty I got a seat near the door. Although the Dean might 
naturally be supposed to be at least as well prepared as usual 
on the day of this solemn fast of the church, yet the sermon 
fell far short of my expectations, which had been, perhaps, 
too highly raised. The mind of the preacher is but little 
above the common order, and not deeply versed, I should ap- 
prehend, in theological lore. His greatest recommendation 



DR. HODGSON. 217 

as a preacher is a sonorous voice, with which he gives an 
undue weight and emphasis to the most common truths, ex- 
pressed in a very common way. Neither was the matter of 
the discourse well adapted, either to the occasion, or to the 
character of the audience ; the wliole of it being spent in 
proving the Messiahship of our Saviour, by comparing the 
prophecies respecting him with their fulfilment — a point 
which probably none of his hearers doubted. I have been 
long convinced, however, that the talents of a preacher are 
not to be correctly estimated by a single discourse. The 
best must necessarily preach a great many indifierent ser- 
mons ; and men of eminent abilities are the most unequal in 
their pulpit productions. All subjects, too, are not equally 
promising : the invention of the clearest and most active spir- 
its will sometimes flag ; and then the work of composition 
proceeds heavily. Still, in the sermons of a truly powerful 
mind, on which " an unction of the Holy One" has been 
poured, occasional flashes will break forth, affording evi- 
dence to an intelligent auditor of the latent fire ; while, on the 
other hand, few are so dull as not to be visited with some 
moments of felicitous invention, when they rise above their 
usual mediocrity, and astonish themselves not less than their 
auditors. 

On the morning of Easter Sunday, I attended church at 
St. George's, Hanover Square, of which. Dr. Hodgson, Dean 
of CarUsle, and the Biographer of the late Bishop Porteus, 
is Rector. The church was crowded to excess, and I could 
find no better accommodations than a standing place in one 
of the side aisles. The Dean is apparently about fifty — and 
although he preached with a sufficient degree of animation, 
he can scarcely be called an orator, in the proper sense of 
the word. One of the most obvious faults in his delivery is 
that of throwing an undue emphasis on sentences, which re- 
quire only a calm and dispassionate utterance — a fault, which 
never fails to destroy, the moment it is discovered, our inter- 
est in the preacher. He seems to be declaiming ; he no 
longer appears to be reasoning with his hearers from his own 

convictions. The topic of the preacher, if not ill-chosen, 
19 



218 JOURNAL. 

was not pursued with a due regard to the spiritual wants of 
his audience. The argument of his discourse merely went 
to show, that the incredulity of Thomas Avas unreasonable. 
It was methodical, perspicuous, and conclusive — but his 
hearers already believed in the resurrection. V/hat they 
wanted was to be roused, exhorted, animated to an active 
pursuit of the duties of their calling ; and here, the discourse 
was greatly deficient. 

Who has not heard of the promenade in Hyde Park 1 As 
the weather was veiy fine, I walked in that direction be- 
tween three and four, and squeezed through Cumberland gate ' 
with the crowd. Here, one of the most lively, animated 
scenes presented itself. The whole distance between Ox ] 
foi'd Street and Hyde-park Corner, a stretch of about three 
quarters of a mile, was thronged to excess ; and throwing 
myself into the tide of human population, with no object in 
view but to study and observe, was borne along with the 
crowd. Here might be seen wealthy shop-keepers, in wiiose 
rotund persons were displaj^ed the substantial qualities of 
" the I'oast beef of Old England" — firm stepping matrons 
and mincing maidens — the old, the shrivelled, the young, the 
beautiful, and the fair — privates of the guards, v/ith their 
military strut and rusty mustaches — thriving green bachelors 
in their frog-buttoned frock coats — corinthians and exquisites 
from Bond. Street, sporting an eye-glass and perfuming the 
gales with their ambrosial locks — waiting men in laced coats, 
and plush unmentionables of yellow, green, blue, red, and all 
(he primary colours — and a multitude more of pedestrians 
not so readily classified — all elbov/ing their way amidst the 
throno-, in the gayest and most talkative humour imaginable. 
They might have almost been reckoned by tens of thousands, 
the fineness of the day after a long succession of rains having 
enticed them abroad. On the other side of the railing, in 
Park Lane, the scene was no less amusing. A double row of 
carriages, moving by each other in opposite directions, occu- 
pied the middle part of the street ; and on each side hovered 
a cloud of horsemen. The carriages moved on as in a fu- 
neral procession, at a slow pace, interrupted by frequent 



PROMEiNADE IN HYDE PARK. 219 

halts, and so close as to be almost in contact. The tops were 
generally down ; and many a fan- one, who glitters in the pur- 
lieus of St. James' and Grosvenor Squares, among the as- 
cending, culminating, and waning stars of the court, might 
be seen reclining at her ease, directing her opera-glass to- 
wards the thick mass of pedestrians over the railing, or chat- 
ting with some gallant cavalier, or innocently drawing aside 
her veil, in the consciousness of possessing charms which 
needed not that charitable concealment. Here were car- 
riages on which coronets glittered, and lions ramped, and 
griffins yawned, and phoenixes blazed, and cocks crowed ; 
and on which were pourtrayed all the quaint and multiform 
devices of heraldry, denoting descent from ' ancient and 
honourable families.' Interspersed between, were stanhopes, 
and tilburys, and curricles, drawn by ponies of every size, 
from that of a large Newfoundland dog and upward, and 
loaded with citizens and their families ; while on either side, 
the dandies galloped to and fro, " witching the world with no- 
ble horsemanship." City horsemen, I presume, are nearly 
the same everywhere ; that is, stiff", timid, and ungraceful. 
They seem to be of the opinion of Doctor Sitgreaves in the 
Spy, — the wider the base the greater the security ; and in 
conformity thereto, brace out their feet as if they had been 
tutored in Signor Gambado's riding school. In fine weather, 
Hyde Park, I am told, usually exhibits the same appearance 
on Sunday, from 2 o'clock till dinner ; although I have had 
no opportunity of witnessing it before. To the actors, it is 
doubtless an agreeable, but can scarcely be called a profita- 
ble substitute, for an attendance in the house of God in the 
afternoon. The scene is far too gay and entertaining to har- 
monize with a day of rest and religious contemplation. 



^^® • JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



ANNIVERSARY OF THE HOSPITALS — " THE TENTh" NASH THE ARCHITECT 

BIRTH DAY ST. STEPHEN'S, WALBROOK WANT OF NEW CHURCHES 

CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY— LORD GAMBIER — J. THORNTON, ESQ. 

LORD BARHAM MR. C. GRANT BISHOP OF LITCHFIELD REV. MR. 

SIBTHORP REV. J. PARSONS REV. MR. CUNNINGHAM REV. F. ELWIN. 

Monday, April 19. — My friend Mr. H. accompanied me this 
morning to the "Anniversary of the Hospitals" under the 
direction of the Corporation of the city of London, held 
in Christ Church, Newgate Street. The six hundred 
" Christ Church Boys'' in their bands, blue frocks, and red 
girdles, arranged in row above row in the front gallery, made 
a truly fine appearance. The Lord Mayor and his lady came 
in state to the celebration ; the former in his official robes, 
and the latter in the court dress of former days, with hoops, 
and an enormous plume of white feathers. ¥/ith them came 
the Aldermen, Sheriffs, &c., all in their dress of office. The 
ante-communion service only was read, and a sermon was 
delivered by the Bishop of Exeter. His Lordship two or 
three times eulogised that part of " the good old English 
character," which consisted in mingling religion with all their 
charitable and humane exertions. The sermon was suffi- 
ciently appropriate, but did not rise above a respectable me- 
diocrity, either in the matter, or style of delivery. 

At the dinner-table of Mr. M , a few days after, I met 

an agreeable party of ten or a dozen, among whom was Dr. 
WoUaston, one of the distinguished men of science of the 
present day. In conversation he is remarkably'dry and re- 
served. How often does it happen that men, eminent for 
their strength of mind, and attainments in knowledge, are un- 
able to contribute their proportion of small talk to enliven 
a circle of friends ! Their ideas seem too unwieldly to be set 
in motion by such light machinery — they are conversant on- 
ly with matters of fact — the judgment has been exercised at 



THE TENTH. 



221 



the expense of the imagination ; and without some play of the 
fancy, conversation is apt to grow " drowsy as the ticking of 
a clock." 

" The Tenth."— These laughter-loving people have a relish 
for broad humour, beyond that of any other nation in the 
world. It is innate, deep, hearty, and real as their existence. 
Whatever occurs capable of being rendered ludicrous, instant- 
ly becomes the property of newspaper satirists and caricatu- 
rists ; who are never known to have any bowels of compas- 
sion for their unfortunate victims, until they are fairly hunted 
down. " The Tenth" has for some days been obliged, with 
whatever reluctance, to contribute to the amusement of the 
pubiick. This is no other than the Tenth regiment of Hus- 
sars, or the Dandy Regiment, as it is popularly termed ; sta- 
tioned at present in Dublin. It appettrs, that an honest, fool- 
ish fellow of a cornet was, for some causfe or other, excluded 
from the mess-room, and put in Coventry by his brother offi- 
cers ; of which he made complaint to his superior. The affair 
got into the newspapers ; and in the course of the discussion, 
the dandy arrogance and ill-manners of the sprigs of gentility 
belonging to the Tenth were brought to light, to the great 
satisfaction of all the lovers of fun. Tiie regiment, it is said, 
behaved well at Waterloo ; but officers and privates have 
been changed since, and the squadron is now officered prin- 
cipally by certain exquisites from London, among whom is a 
son of Sir F. Burdett. " The Tenth" now figures in a very 
prominent manner in nev/spaper anecdotes, and in the win- 
dows of the print shops. — The Tenth lounges in a ball-room, 
with his leg mounted on the back of a chair, staring at the 
ladies through his opera-glass — The Tenth is exposed to the 
fire of an enormous blunderbuss, opened from the window of 
a newspaper office — The Tenth is swept off by scores into 
the sea, by an indignant Irish belle, who scatters dismay and 
confusion among its ranks, by the vigorous flourishes of a 
mighty broom — The Tenth, in short, occupies at the present 
moment a very painful pre-eminence in the public consider- 
ation. 

These wicked satirists have laid no very gentle hand on 
A 19* 



222 JOURNAL. 

the novel displays of architecture in Regent Street, where, it 
must be confessed, there is abundance of legitimate game. 
One of the caricatures has impaled Nash the architect on the 
spire of the new church in Langham Place, — a structure in- 
debted to none of the five orders of antiquity for its orna- 
ments or proportions. The spire is a slender fluted cone, 
rising like a bodkin from the midst of a gallery on the top 
of a circular tower, and tapering to a point as sharp as a 
needle. The builder sits on the summit spread at all points 
like a cat — the crows and rooks making strange evolutions 
about him; whilebeneath, is the appropriate motto — '^ Nash- 
ional Taste." 

Never, perhaps, was there so much bad taste displayed 
within the same compass, as in the buildings of Regent Street, 
This street has been opened and constructed at a vast px- 
pense to government, and was intended to be highly orna- 
mental to the west end of tlie town. It is broad, spacious, 
and beautifully paved ; but the designs of the buildings are 
most preposterous. Variety it certainly possesses, for scarce- 
ly any two houses are alike: but such admixtures of Grecian 
and Egyptian, Roman and Hindoo, Ancient and Modern, and 
Nashiona], were never beheld before. The village archi- 
tects of New England might learn to blush at the poverty of 
their own inventions, after looking at these exploits of Mr. 
Nash ; and even the constructor of the meeting -house in Prov- 
idence, (R. I.) might learn here, that there are combinations 
of orders which were never dreamt of in his philosophy. 

April 30. — In walking the streets to-day, I observed vast 
numbers of little globular cups of cut glass hung out from the 
windows ; and on a nearer survey, perceived that they were 
methodically arranged and filled with oil. It is the king's 
birth day. In the evening, we had a fine display of G. R's 
in blazing letters all about the town. It would ^eem that a 
person's loyalty is measured by the quantity of oil consumed 
on the occasion. The effect on the whole was very "pretty. 
In some instances, the lamps composing the crown were of 
various colours, and produced a very brilliant effect. He in 
whose honour all this blaze is lighted up, is for the most part 



ST. STEPHEN'S, WALBROOK. 223' 

as invisible to his people as the Grand Lama. A drawing- 
room was to have been held on this anniversary, the first 
which has occurred for two or three years ; and great prepa- 
rations had been made by the j^oung nobility for presenta- 
tion at court ; but the gout having fastened on the person of 
royalty, the ceremony has been postponed. It is whispered, 
however, that it is only the condition of the drawing-rooms 
in St. James v/hich has caused the present disappointment — 
the improvements and alterations not being yet quite comple- 
ted. At all events, much disappointment has been experien- 
ced, if the papers speak true ; many splendid equipages hav- 
ing been prepared, and numerous expectants having arrived 
in town from all parts of the kingdom. 

May 1. — -This is a holiday for the chimney sweepers. 
Groups of them may be seen in the streets, fantastically 
dressed, and dancing to their own music on the brush and 
shovel. The coachmen, too, as well as their horses, are gaily 
decorated wath ribbons, ai,id the saturnalia among the lower 
orders seem to be universal. The weather has now become 
remarkable fine, and vegetation in the squares and parks is 
advancing at a rapid pace. 

The church of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, has been praised 
as " the master-piece of Sir Christopher Wren," and this may 
be one reason of the disappointment I experienced on see- 
ing it. I observed nothing about it v/orthy of very particu- 
lar admiration, unless it was the dome resting on eight Ionic 
pillars, and the flat ceiling supported by eight pillars more. 
It is a small church, seventy -five feet long by fifty-six broad. 
The exterior is scarcely discernible, on account of the piles 
of shabby houses by which it is almost covered. The sermon 
was very indifferent, and the service coldly performed. Few 
were present, however, to receive either benefit or injury from 
the exercises. 

The erection of churches, and the formation of new pa- 
rishes, have by no means kept pace with the extension of 
London and the increase of population. In the city, that 
is, in the parts included within the old London wall, the supply 
of churches appears to be more nearly adequate to the wants 



*'i24 JOURNAL, 

of the inhabitants ; but in the suburbs, the deficiency is very 
apparent, even to the most casual observer. Indeed the mul- 
tiplication of Episcopal churches is clogged with difficulties, 
unknown in a country where there is no establishment. All 
England is divided into parishes with local boundaries ; and 
as there has been an immense increase of population since 
the partition was made, some of the parishes now compre- 
hend twenty, and even fifty times the original number of in- 
habitants. Yet a division of the parish cannot take place, 
nor even a chapel of ease be erected, until the consent of the 
Wardens and Vestry, of the incumbent and the patron, and, if 
I rightly remember, an act of parliament, have been obtained^' 
These difficulties amount, in many cases, to an absolute pro- 
hibition of the extension of the means of public worship in 
the Establishment ; while a dissenting house of worship 
may be built at any time, and any where, by merely obtaining 
a. license from the magistrate, which is rarely denied, and 
which does not cost more than a crown. Under such cir- 
cumstances, nothing but an inherent attachment to the na- 
tional church among the inhabitants, could have prevented 
a much more rapid growth of dissenterism, than has actually 
taken place. The evil has been frequently and forcibly rep- 
resented in parliament, but no adequate remedy has yet been 
found. Where so many contending interests are to be re- 
conciled, a reform must be the work of time and much per- 
severance. 

Tuesday, May 4. — To-day being the anniversary of the 
Church Missionary Society, I repaired at 11 to the 
Freemason's Hall in Great Queen Street. This Hall is an 
elegant apartment, capable of holding one thousand persons, 
with a gallery and organ at one end for occasional concerts. 
A temporary platform was raised at one extremity of the 
room, for the accommodation of the officers and orators of 
the Society, and for such strangers as might be invited. The 
hall was already filled ; but as the ticket with which I had 
been obligingly furnished admitted me to a seat on the plat- 
form, I found no difficulty in being accommodated. A great 
proportion of the audience consisted of ladies of the higher 



CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 225 

classes, who appeared to take a deep interest in the proceed, 
ings. At twelve, Lord Gambier appeared and took the chair, 
and addressed the audience in a short speech. He is a 
plain, robust looking man, of unassuming manners, and ap- 
parently not much accustomed to speaking in publick. The 
Report was read by the Secretary, Mr. Pratt ; after which, 
the meeting was addressed by 

John Thornton, Esq., Treasurer of the Society. He spoke 
with great feeling of the death of so many valuable labour- 
ers in West Africa ; and alluded in pathetic terms to the la- 
mented death of Governor M'Carthy, the tidings of which, 
and of the defeat and slaughter of the troops by the Ashan- 
tees, have just reached England. The next speaker was 

Lord Barham, an Irish Nobleman, whose appearance was 
remarkably modest and unobtrusive. He said but little, and 
had been induced to rise, only because a motion had been 
put into his hand, which he was requested to propose. He 
sustains a most excellent character for piety and good works, 
and is one of the most active promoters of the charitable 
institutions of the day. His motion was seconded by 

The Rt. Hon. Charles Grant, late Secretary for Ireland, in 
a speech which I did not attempt to remember. I preferred 
the more grateful office ' of listening to some of the most 
delightful strains of eloquence I ever heard. His address 
abounded in the 

" Conceptions ardent, lab'ring thought intense, 
" Creative fancy's wild magnificence, 
"And all the dread sublimities of song, — 

which in his beautiful Prize Poem " On the Restoration of 
Learning in the East," he ascribes to Virtue. He speaks 
under the influence of high intellectual and moral excitement ; 
every period teems with imagination, and sentiment, and 
chaste and beautiful classick imagery. There are no pro- 
sing sentences — no half-formed conceptions — no flat, insipid^ 
or common-place ideas ; and, as extravagant as the praise 
may seem, — could the father of Roman eloquence have been 
an auditor, he must, I think, have confessed a rival in some 
of the essential qualities of an orator. In the course of his 



226 JOURNAL, 

address, he alluded to the self-devotion of christian missiona- 
ries ; and drew a lively picture of the faith which inspired 
them, and which served to explain the paradoxes presented 
by their history. " In all things, they approved themselves 
the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in ne- 
cessities, in distresses ; — as dying, and behold, they live ; as 
chastened, and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing ; 
as having nothing, and yet possessing all things." These 
he exemplified in the case of Henry Martyn, whom he follow- 
ed in his painful wanderings, 

" O'er broad Hindostan''s sultry meads, 

" O'er black Almorah's hill — 

across burning deserts, and into the interior of Persia — trans- 
lating the Sacred Volume, and defending it alone against the 
malice and cunning of exasperated Moolahs — testifying open- 
ly, that the crucified Jesus was co-equal with God the Fath- 
er — pressing onward with greater and greater fervor of spirit, 
. ia proportion as the time of his departure drew nigh ; and 
dropping at last, when nature could sustain no more, into 
an early and unhonoured grave. — He took another exam- 
ple — that of him, who thought nothing of the momentary 
lightness of his afflictions — who was "in labours more abun- 
dant ; in stripes above measure ; in prisons more frequent ; 
in deaths oft ; thrice beaten with rods ; once stoned ; thrice 
suffering shipwreck ; a night and a day in the deep ; in wea- 
riness and painfuiaess ; in watchings oft ; in hunger and 
thirst ; in cold and nakedness ; besiiles the daily care of all 
the churches." — These were the fortunes' of the missionary 
of the cross ; yet he was happy in them all. — I do. not give 
this as properly a part of the speech, to which it would be dif- 
ficult for a reporter to do justice. A gentleman present, who 
had often listened to the eloquence of Fox, and Pitt, and Burke, 
in the days of their glory, assured me, that he had never wit- 
nessed a more lively impression produced by either of them, 
than by this address of Mr. Grant. For my own part, I could 
not avoid surrendei'ing myself, and all my faculties, to the 
ascendancy of the speaker, and was kept in a kind of trance 
while he occupied the floor — nor did the audience generally 



RT. HON. C. GRANT. 227 

appear to be les.s deeply mover]. The plaudits were long, 
and loud, and frequent. He is de,servedly in high favour 
with the publick, and the expectation of an address from him 
is always sure to bring together a numerous audience. He 
held a card in his hand, on which he had pencilled a few 
words to assist his memory : but the whole was evidentl}^ ex- 
temporaneous. He seems not to be in good health ; and 
retired after speaking, into a nook, appai'entiy exhausted. 
He appears to be about thirty-five, slender in person, with 
rather small features of Scottish mould, and very light hair. 
A phrenologist would criticise with satisfaction his high, well- 
turned, expanded forehead ; and a head, which might serve 
as a model for a statuary. His features are composed, even 
amidst the highest flights of his imagination ; and exhibit 
few visible marks of the " creative fancj^" or the " labouring 
thought intense," save perhaps in the small gray eyes faint- 
ly scintillating through the long white eye-lashes by which 
they are overshadowed ; and possibly, in the elevation of their 
inner angle, which seems to be habitual. His friends, I arn 
told, regret his fondness for dreaming on the Aonian hill, and 
wetting his lips with the dews of Castaly ; when he might 
aspire 

"To shake the Senate, and from heights sublime 

" Of patriot eloquence, to flash down fire 

" Upon his country's foes. 

He is evidently too rhuch a child of imagination ever to 
become a liard-working statesman ; and delights in a quiet 
lounge on the .shady side of Parnassus, before all the trophies 
of parliamentary eloquence, which a genius like his might 
appropriate at pleasure. 

■ Lord Calthorpe was next called upon by the Secretary, and 
spoke with less hesitation, and more force, than v/hen I heard 
him in the house of Lords. Next to him was 

Thomas F. Buxton, Esq., one of the most prominent cham. 
pions for the abolition of slavery. His style of speaking is 
very business-like, direct and manly ; but as destitute of im- 
agination as can possibly be conceived. He speaks only to 



228 JOURNAL. 

give utterance to matters of fact, or to deduce consequences 
by Icgical ratiocination. To him succeeded 

Tiie Bishop of Litchfield and Coventrj^, Dr. Ryder. This 
prelate is on the whole a pleasing speaker, although not re- 
markably eloquent. His address had been well premedita- 
ted, and was fluently delivered. Alluding to a scandalous 
attack on Mr. Wilberforce, and the leading abolitionists in 
England, in a pamphlet recently published, and entitled " A 
voice from Jamaica," he trusted that the next " Voice" from 
that island would be, — " Come over and help us." (Ap- 
plause.) 

Sir Robert Harry Inglis was the next up, and delivered 
an address with sufiicient propriety. He was followed by 

The Rev. Richard W. Sibthorp, Fellow of Magdalen Col- 
lege, Oxford, in whom, it would be difficult to say whether 
diffidence or genius most predominated. There was a deep 
and quiet pathos in his eloquence, which fell upon the soul 
like one of Mozart's spirit-subduing strains ; too exquisite, 
perhaps, for vulgar apprehensions, but delightful to those who 
could sympathize with genius and sensibility. The mind of 
the speaker is evidently one of a very high order, and no less 
highly improved by cultivation. His address was quite un- 
premeditated, but contained some delicious and shining pas- 
sages ; which were the more striking, from their being deliv- 
red with unaffected modesty. 

The Rev. J. Parsons, Chaplain to the East India Company, 
arose next. He has the yellow, bilious look, which so man^ 
bring with them from India. He, too, is a very superior man, 
and an interesting speaker. Some passages in his address 
were highly pointed and antithetical. He dwelt principally 
on the progress of Christianity in the East, the scene of 
his labours ; and observed, among other things, that it had 
less to encounter in the prejudices, than in the indifference, 
and want of moral principle which prevailed among the Hin- 
doos. He was followed by 

The Rev. F. Spring, also a Chaplain to the Company, and 
but just returned from the East, with the same bilious, un- 



CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 229 

healthy look. His physical energy appeared to have sunk 
under the effects of the climate. 

The Rev. C. J. Hoare delivered a most animated address ; 
but too unconnected in point of method, and in a strain more 
complimentary to his fellow labourers than was suited to the 
occasion. 

The author of " The Velvet Cushion," the Rev. Mr. Cun- 
ningham, next occupied the floor. He speaks with great flu- 
ency, and often with force ; but his exuberant fancy some- 
times leads him quite astray. It is pei-petually frisking, and 
gamboling, and bodying forth the most unlooked for images"; 
nor does its possessor appear anxious to restrain even the 
wildest of its sallies. Mr. C. is an entertaining speaker, and 
sometimes a very instructive one. It is singular that a ge- 
nius so imaginative should have exhibited so few of its pecu- 
liar traits in the volume of sermons, which Mr. Cunningham 
has published. They are, generally speaking, plain, practi- 
cal, and adapted to the wants of an ordinary congregation. 

The Rev. Fountain Elwin, the Society's preacher this year, 
concluded the addresses, by a singularly animated one ; and 
after a few words from the Noble President, the assembly 
broke up, after a session of six hours. The interest of the 
meeting was sustained to the last — a circumstance not to be 
wondered at, when it is considered that most of the speakers 
were men of talents, and addressing an enlightened Chris- 
tian audience, on the means of conveying the blessings of 
the gospel to the milUons, who yet sit in darkness and the 
shadow of death. 



20 



\ 



330 JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XXill. 



BRITISH AND FOREIGN BIBLE SOCIETY LORD HARROWBY LORD KO- 

j)EN COUNT VERHUIL LORD BEXLEY MR. C. GRANT DK. MORRISON 

REV. MR. BRANDOM — REV. J. TOWNSEND. 

The next day, May 5th, being the anniversary of the Brit- 
ish and Foreign Bible Society, I repaired again to the Free- 
mason's Hall, at eleven, and found the body of it already fill- 
ed with gentlemen — no ladies being admitted to the annual 
meetings of this Society, through the want of sufficient ac- 
commodations. The venerable President, Lord Teignmouth, 
entered a little before twelve, and proceeded slowly towards 
the chair, amidst loud and continued cheering. He address, 
ed the meeting with great propriety, and at considerable 
length ; but was interrupted by the entrance of Lord Har- 
rowby amidst the cheers of the assembly. This is the way 
in which the entrance of any favorite member is greeted. 
The President having concluded his remarks. 

Lord Harrowby rose and submitted a motion in a neat 
'speech, in which he expressed his entire approbation of the 
objects of this noble institution. 

Lord Roden, a young Irish nobleman, seconded the mo- 
tion of Lord H. One part of his speech produced a great ef- 
feet. Instead of taking up the time of the meeting with gen- 
eral observations, he would relate an incident which it might 
not be unacceptable to the audience to hear, and for the truth 
of which he would vouch. 

" I knew a man — I will not say how many years since — 
who lived only to enjoy the pleasures of the world — was fond 
to excess of its admiration, and desired nothing beyond its ap- 
plause. He mingled in the society of men of pleasure — was 
seen at the dance and the revel, at the theatre and the mas- 
querade ; and denied himself nothing which promised gratifi- 
cation or amusement. At length, this man, in whose thoughts 



LORD RODEN. 231 

a sentiment of religion had scarcely ever found a place, hap- 
pened to be passing by a hall in Dublin, where an Auxiliary 
Bible Society was then holding its annual meeting. Impell- 
ed only by an idle curiosity, and perhaps expecting to be 
amused — for his time sometimes hung heavy on his hands — 
he moved in at the door, and silently took a seat in a remote 
corner of the room, where he could mark their proceedings, 
as he thought, unobserved — for, to confess the truth, he 
dreaded the shame of being discovered in such society. Yet 
it so happened that, from his hiding-place, he Hstened to the 
utterance of sentiments, which, if true, made it evident to his 
mind that he was a condemned sinner [strong emotion] — that 
when he had run his short career of pleasure, there would be 
nothing left to him but to he down in everlasting burnings. 
He hastened out of the hall in inexpressible agony of mind, 
and determined to examine for himself. He did so. On ev- 
ery page of the Divine Book, he seemed to find it inscribed, 
that to him and such as he, God was a consuming fire. Still, 
he read on. For the first time in his life, he knelt down and 
prayed, in bitterness of spirit — he eagerly sought for some 
ray of consolation, in the midst of a distress which had be- 
come insupportable ; — and he found it. He found that 
which, in process of time, brought a peace to his distracted 
bosom which he had never known before. His eye rested 
on the reviving assurance, that God was in Christ reconciling 
the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them ; 
audit calmed the tempest of his soul. [Here the emotion of 
the speaker became so strong as to oblige him to pause, while 
half the audience were in tears.] From that hour to the 
present, he has striven, amidst much weakness and infirmity, 
to live the life of a Christian, and to keep before his eyes the 
solemn account, he must one day give at the bar of God ; and 
he desires to hear witness this day, before your Lordship and 
this assemhly, to the power of divine grace, in turning the heart 
of a disobedient, blind, thoughtless, irreligious creature, to the 
wisdom of the just, and from the poiver of Satan unto God.'''' 
The effect of this Avas beyond any thing I ever witnessed. 
The speaker was no orator, in the common meaning of the 



232 



JOURNAL. 



term ; but he spoke from an overflowing heart, and carried 
the sympathies of every hearer along vi^ith him. His deUv- 
ery was frequently interrupted by the vehemence of his own 
feelings, and by the expression of those of the audience — his 
manner was ungraceful ; but there was an overpowering ear- 
nestness in it, which it was impossible to resist. I thought 
I never understood — or rather, never /eZ^ so strongly the 
force of that sublime mystery of Godliness, " that God was 
in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself" — " a faithful 
saying, and worthy of all acceptation." 

To a vote of thanks, moved by the Bishop of Litchfield and 
Coventry, and seconded by Lord Barham, Lord Teignmouth 
replied in a speech of a few minutes long. He speaks in a 
low and level tone of voice, which is pleasing in one of his 
grave and venerable character. There is great calmness 
and self-possession in his manner. He appears far advanced 
in years, and stoops, from age and infirmity. When he had 
concluded his remarks, he introduced to the audience 

Admiral Count Verhuil, a peer of France, and a deputy 
from the Bible Society of Paris. He is a large, fine looking 
man. Taking his eye-glass from his pocket, and unrolling a 
paper, he commenced reading an address in English, but 
with a pronunciation so entirely French, that it was evident 
he was ignorant of the language in which his address was 
composed. It was a little remarkable, that the persons on 
the right and left of the President were both Admirals, who 
had actually commanded in fleets which were opposed to 
each other during the last war. Verhuil had a post in the 
French fleet destined to cover the invading army under Bo- 
naparte ; as Lord Gambier had in the English squadron, 
which cruised in the channel to oppose the expedition ; and 
their meeting now, under the banners of the Prince of Peace, 
to concert measures for spreading abroad the Gospel of 
peace, occasioned some happy allusions by the different 
speakers, and by Lord Gambier in particular. 

The next speaker was Lord Bexley, who, in the course of 
his remarks, paid a compliment to his Right Rev. friend on 
his left. (The Bishop of Ohio.) Lord B. is a small man» 



B. AND F. BIBLE SOCIETY. 3^3 

with a most benevolent, mild exf>ression of countenance. 
His hair is quite white, but his eye is quick and lively, and 
indicative of great mildness of disposition. He is a pleasing, 
though not a forcible speaker. He was followed by the Rev. 
Mr. Parsons ; after whom, 

The Rt. Hon, Charles Grant occupied the floor. Again 
was I delighted with his fervid eloquence, with his rich clas- 
sical imagery, and inimitable turns of language and expres- 
sion. Alluding to the rapid growth of the Society, he gave 
a very happy specimen of the climax. " Had some sanguine 
friend of the institution ventured to predict, that within the 
first twenty years of its existence, it would embrace a- large 
portion of the religious population of Great Britain ; this was 
all which could have been reasonably expected of it in so 
short a time. Should it, within that period, extend its branch- 
es into the sister island ; it would afford additional reason for 
congratulations on its prosperity. If it should throw its limbs 
across the Channel, and take root in the sister kingdom ; this 
would be matter of some surprise, as well as of thankfulness. 
That, within twenty years, the sacred cause of the Bible So- 
ciety should penetrate and pervade the continent of Europe 
— fix itself in Scandanavia, in Holland, in Prussia ; and be 
taken into the protection of the Autocrat of all the Russias ; 
■ — this was a degree of success, beyond any thing which its 
most sanguine friends had dared to hope. — But that, in the 
short period which had elapsed since its birth, it should have 
penetrated the four quarters of the globe — stretching abroad 
its arms over every land, and shedding every where its leaves 
for the healing of the nations ; — this was a consummation, 
which had never entered the dreams of those who had watch- 
ed over its birth, and it filled him with astonishment, (ap- 
plause.) " Why, my Lord, here is a violation of all dramat- 
ic unity — an absolute annihilation of time — a crowding into 
a few years, of incidents, which demand the lapse of a cen- 
tury, (cheers.) My Lord, it would not be matter of sur- 
prise, if some future, calculating philosopher — some skepti- 
cal historian, who regulated his belief in facts by their fitness 

and verisimilitude, were gravely to attempt to prove, that all 

20* 



234 JOURNAL. 

this could never have happened ; and that the historian of the 
Society had, from some inexplicable motive, postponed its 
birth for a century. — 

TantsB molis erat Romanam condere gentem. 

Nothing, my Lord, can more emphatically mark its resistless 
and rapid progress, than the profound oblivion which now 
covers the enmity by which it was assailed in its infancy. 
At this rate, it is likely to appear in the eyes of posterity as 
an institution, reared by the united hands and hearts of Brit- 
ons in a peaceful age ; instead of one, whose walls were built 
in troublous times, when every man wrought with his 
weapons in his hand ; and I would propose, my Lord, that 
some niche should be provided in the society's archives, to 
contain the warlike pamphlets by which its feeble existence 
was threatened, and the memory that it was once opposed." 
(loud applause and laughter.) In the earlier parts of the ad, 
dress of this favourite speaker, there Avere some fine strokes 
of delicate irony, to which it is impossible to do justice ; but 
towards the close, he changed his style for one wholly grave 
and serious, and with a very powerful effect. It may be 
added that his manner is generally vehement and emphatic, 
rather than graceful — his position is erect and dignified ; 
and his voice grave and well-toned. 

He was followed by the Rev. Dr. Morrison, who rose 
amidst plaudits long and loud — it was a minute or two before 
he could be heard. He had just returned from China, hav- 
ing completed his gigantic work of translating the Scriptures 
into the language of that country. He is a very handsome 
man apparently aboiit forty ; and liad with him his son, a 
beautiful child seven or eight years old. The Dr. alluded to 
the prospects of Christianity in the Chinese Empire — al- 
though they were as yet by no means encouraging, he did 
not despair. If the word of God could change the heart of a 
British nobleman, it could convert a Chinese idolator to 
Christianity. " My Lord, I know httle of what has been 
passing in the world during the last seventeen years — all 
that time I have been shut up in my study in a remote corner 



REV. J. TOWNSEND. 235 

of the world — I hope I have done my duty ; and it remains 
for the Society to do theirs." (Here, he laid on the table 
his manuscript translation of the Scriptures, amidst the long 
and loud cheers of the audience.) 

J. I. Gurney, Esq., a Quaker from Norwich, followed in a 
sensible speech, of nearly half an hour long ; and was suc- 
ceeded by 

The Rev. Dr. Wardlaw, an independent minister of Glas- 
gow, and the able champion of orthodoxy against Socinian- 
ism. He spoke with good sense, but in a feeble voice. His 
health and strength appeared to be nearly wasted away. 
After a few observations from the Treasurer, J. Thornton, 
Esq., 

The Rev. Mr. Brandom, the Society's Secretary, com- 
menced an animated speech, in which, he paid a handsome 
tribute to the memory of his predecessor in office, the Rev. 
John Owen. His address, although delivered too rapidly, 
was characterized by talent and vigour. 

Sir Robert Harry Inglis, the Rev. Mr. Watson, and Sir 
George W. Rose, next addressed the meeting successively. 
The latter is a man of sprightly talents ; but his enunciation 
is too quick and embarrased to be agreeable. 

The Rev. John Townsend, who seemed to have attained, 
some years ago, his three score and ten, next arose, and spoke 
with all the vivacity of youth. I have seldom seen a more 
venerable looking man. His dress was of the fashion of the 
olden time — his head and neck were covered with volumes of 
snow-white hair ; but his keen black eyes shone with a lustre 
altogether uncommon in so aged a man, from beneath a pair 
of large bushy eye-brows. He said he believed he had the 
honour of standing god-father to the Society. A few of 
them were assembled in an upper room, to deliberate on the 
best method of disseminating the Scriptures. The institu- 
tion was organized ; and when it was asked, by what name it 
should be called, he proposed " The British and Foreign Bi- 
ble Society ;" — an appellation which was adopted. He 
spoke with uncommon pertinence and propriety ; and with the 
force and imagination of a much younger man. 



236 JOURNAL. 

The last motion, proposing a vote of thanks to the Noble 
President for his services to the Society, was made by Lord 
Gambler ; and seconded by the Rev. J. W. Cunningham, 
whose speech was replete as usual with poetry and figure. 

Lord Teignmouth replied in a very sensible and appropri- 
ate manner ; and the assembly dissolved about five. 

In most of the speeches delivered on this, and the former 
occasion, was exhibited another pi'actical refutation of the 
unfounded opinion, that the English people have no taste for 
bold and vehement oratory. Most of these addresses were 
of a highly animated charactei' — far more so than we are ac- 
customed to listen to in America. They were pi'onounced 
with vehemence, and accompanied with a good deal of ac- 
tion ; which was emphatic and impressive, rather than grace- 
ful. If any of the people in either nation appear to be phleg- 
matic, the restraints of education and mistaken usage have 
made them so : both are capable of deep and solemn enthu- 
siasm, when placed in circumstances calculated to call it 
forth. 

I could not help remarking, that many of the speeches 
savoured of the professional occupation of the speaker. Mr. 
Gurney, for instance, concluded with " a few words by way 
of exhortation ;" whence it may be inferred that he is an oc- 
casional exhorter in the meetings. Sir George Rose intro- 
duced a variety of military allusions and illustrations ; and 
many of the clerical orators wound up with the usual form of 
pulpit exhortation — " let us persevere," &c., a very feeble 
and hackneyed way of concluding a sermon or an oration, 
which the brethren will do well to eschew. 



CHARTER HOUSE. 237 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



EXAMINATION AT THE CHARTER-HOUSE REV. CHARLES SUMNER BISH- 
OP OF LIMERICK MEETING OF THE AFRICAN SOCIETY — LORD LANS- 

DOWNE— T. F. BUXTON, ESft. HON. MR. NOEL BISHOP OF DURHAM 

REV. LEIGH RICHMOND ST. LUKE's CHAPEL REV. SIDNEY SMITH 

DRAWING-ROOM AT ST. JAME's ANNIVERSARY AT ST. PAUL's KEN- 
SINGTON GARDENS CHURCH QUEBEC ClIAPEL REMARKS. 

Thursday, May 6th. — I was present this morning at an 
examination of the Charter-House Boys. It was a noble 
spectacle to see between five and six hundred of them as- 
sembled in one apartment, to exhibit proofs of the progress 
they had made in their various studies. The exercises were 
conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury's chaplain and 
another clergyman, in the presence of a number of specta- 
tors. The eldest classes were examined in Sophocles, which 
they rendered into correct English with perfect fluency. 
The readiness with which they explained the sense of that 
difficult author, showed a proficiency in the language quite 
unknown in the schools, and even the colleges of America. 
In reading portions of the New Testament in the original, 
they were not only required to attend to the nicest shades of 
meaning ; but to cite parallel passages, illustrative of those 
on which they were examined, and to give explanations, geo- 
graphical, grammatical, doctrinal, and historical — all of which 
was done with admirable readiness and precision. Their re- 
citations from Virgil exhibited, in a striking manner, the per- 
fection of their training in the Latin tongue. One began, 
without hook, reciting and construing from half a dozen to a 
dozen lines. He had no sooner completed the sentence than 
the examiner called upon another boy in the class, who im- 
mediately commenced reciting in the same way ; and so on, 
till each one had been examined in his turn. Notwithstand- 
ing they were suddenly called upon, and apparently without 



238 JOURNAL. 

any order, there was no mistake, nor even the least hesitation, 
during the whole trial. The Bell sj'stem has been introdu- 
ced here, it is said with the happiest effect. The ages of the 
boys seemed to be from eight to fifteen. 

In the evening, I had the pleasure of meeting, at the table 
of a friend, the Rev. Charles Sumner,* chaplain in ordinary 
to the king — a gentleman of most refined and pleasing man- 
ners, as well as an ornament to his sacred profession. It is 
said that the bishoprick of Barbadoes was offered to him, 
which a sense of duty determined him to accept ; although 
he had the best reason to believe that promotion awaited 
him, if he remained in England. The king sent for him, and 
used a variety of arguments to dissuade him from his purpose 
— hoped they would prove sufficient ; but in case they should 
not, he should impose his commands upon him to decline ac- 
cepting the ofter. The interview of course decided him to 
remain in England. 

On the following Sunday, I went to St. James' Clerkenwell, 
where I understood the Bishop of Limerick, Dr. Jebb, was 
to preach a charity sermon. The congregation was not so 
large as might have been expected, considering the fame of 
the prelate ; though the church was tolerably full. The 
service was performed with great propriety ; and the sermon 
of the Bishop did not disappoint the expectations I had form- 
ed, from a perusal of some of his publications. His manner 
was remarkably impressive and emphatic ; and there were 
passages in his discourse, of great strength and pathos. A 
slight national peculiarity in his pronunciation rather adds to 
the effect of his delivery, which is slow and very distinct. 

African Society for the abolition of the Slave Trade. — 
Tuesday, May 11th, being the day for the annual meeting of 
this institution, I repaired at eleven o'clock to the Freema- 
son's Hall, a friend having provided me with a ticket of ad- 
mission. x\t twelve the chair was taken by the Marquess of 
Lansdowne, who apologized for the absence of the Duke of 
Glocester, whose attendance was prevented by ill health. 



"*= Now Bishop of Winchester. 



AFRICAN SOCIETY. 239 

The report stated the continuance, and even increase of the 
traffick, principally under cover of the French flag ; and 
next to that, under the flag of Portugal. A number of reso- 
lutions were adopted, expressive of the sentiments of the 
meeting relative to this infamous trade, and the conduct of 
some of the governments of Europe in conniving at it, or 
openly supporting it. Lord Calthorpe introduced a motion, 
in a speech of considerable length ; which was seconded by 
Lord Hervey, son of the Earl of Bristol. His extreme dif- 
fidence would not allow him to be very eloquent. He is 
apparently not more than twenty, and but little accustomed 
to speaking in publick. — Other motions were introduced and 
supported by D. Sykes, Esq. M. P. for Hull ; Gurney the 
Lawyer, Gurney the Quaker, and Sir R. H. Inglis. 

Lord Lansdowne then rose, and said, that as he should be 
obliged soon to leave the chair to attend upon other engage- 
ments, he might be excused the irregularity of addressing 
the meeting at this stage of its proceedings. He had long 
thought, that when the slave trade should have been formally 
abolished by the different maritime nations who had formerly 
permitted it ; the next step should be; to cut off all who 
should be found engaged in the inhuman traffic from the 
protection of society — to declare them pirates, and treat them 
as such. It gave him inexpressible satisfaction to knoAV, 
that this had now been done by the two greatest maritime 
nations in the world, Great Britain, and the United States of 
America ; (applause,) and he could not help expressing the 
ardent hope, that the harmony of feeling with which the two 
nations had concurred in this righteous act, would ramify and 
extend itself into all their relations — that as they were one 
in blood, one in language, and one in religion, they might be 
actuated by no other spirit of rivalship than that of labour- 
ing for the common good of the human species. (Hear, hear; 
and loud applause.) His Lordship then left the chair, and 
retired amidst the cheers of the assembly. 

Lord Gambier having taken the chair, T. F. Buxton, Esq. 
rose ; and in a speech of considerable length, animadverted 
with great severity on the conduct of the King of France, 



240 JOURNAL. 

in violating his pledge to abolish the slave trade in his do^ 
minions. He contrasted his perfidy with the good faith of 
the Prince of Madagascar, who had followed the custom of 
his ancestors in making war on the neighbouring tribes, and 
selling his captives for slaves. He had expressed his will- 
ingness to abolish the usage, provided he could receive some 
compensation for the damage his treasury must sustain by 
the abolition. He was desired to name his terms. Being a 
patriotic prince who loved his people, he considered what 
it was which they were most in want of ; and he found that 
it was education and trowsers. He therefore stipulated, that, 
in consideration of having twenty young men of his kingdom 
educated, and four hundred pair of trowsers made for his 
subjects, he would sell no more captives for slaves — and he 
had Jcept his word; while his most Christian Majesty had 
acted with the utmost perfidy. (Cheers and laughter.) 

The Hon. Mr. Noel followed in a speech, as imaginative 
and flowery as was ever heard in Congress, from a new- 
fledged orator of the South ; — it was on a motion of thanks 
to His Royal Highness for his services as President. He 
compared the progress of the institution to that of a noble 
and gallant ship, proudly bounding over the waves, and pur- 
suing her course unimpeded by the straws and sea-weed which 
lay across her path ; " and if they had the happiness to be 
seated in that ship, and to partake of the pleasures of the 
career, they would cordially join him in a vote of thanks to 
the pilot, who had so ably directed her course." 

The Rev. Mr. Cunningham, who had just entered the Hall, 
then ascended the platform, and delivered an animated ad- 
dress, superior to those which I had heard him pronounce on 
former occasions. It had less extravagance of fancy, and 
more of practical common sense, than his former speeches ; 
and was on the whole, the best one delivered — that of the 
chairman excepted. At four, the meeting adjourned. 

May 12. — At the table of the Bishop of Durham, I had 
the pleasure of meeting the Bishop of St. David's, and some 
Oxonians, besides one or two American friends — all intelli- 
gent and agreeable men. Our dinner was simple, but served 



REV. LEIGH RFCHMOND. 241 

up in the best taste. The venerable Bishop, now ninety years 
of age, did the honours of the table with all the grace and 
dignity of a man in the prime of life. He said he felt none 
of the pains of old age ; and he has certainly fewer of its 
mental infirmities, than are commonly observable at three 
score and ten. 

Sunday, 16. — This is now the sixth day of strong easterly 
wind, and the fourth of rain, which latterly has fallen without 
any cessation. The smoke, too, rolls down into the streets, 
making a tout ensemble dirty and disagreeable beyond descrip- 
tion. 

As the time for morning service approached, I strayed 
away in the direction of Paddington ; till, passing along an 
obscure street, I suddenly came in front of Bentinck Chapel, 
which was open. Prayers were read by the Rev. Basil 
Woodd, ministf.r of the Chapel, assisted by the Rev. Mr. 
Wilks, the Editor of the Christian Observer, who officiates 
here as an assistant. A short and rather stout man in the 
prime of life, and with a countenance singularly engaging and 
benevolent, then ascended the pulpit, and commenced a dis- 
course on " holding fast the form of sound words," in aid of 
a collection for the Prayer Book and Homily Society. It 
was delivered wholly extempore ; but he had not proceeded 
far before it was evident that he was a preacher of no com- 
mon powers. I enquired his name from the person next to 
me ; and was told that it was Leigh Richmond. As I was 
not aware of his being in London, it was a subject of agree- 
able surprise that I had been thus accidentally directed to a 
church, where I had an opportunity of hearing a man who has 
eminently benefitted and delighted the Christian world by his 
writings. The language of the speaker, like that of his writ- 
ten style, flows on like the current of a gentle river, watering 
and fertilizing the region through which it flows. It is rare- 
ly elevated or impassioned, and never mean. If it is too 
equable and diffuse for the highest flights of eloquence, it is 
in an eminent degree persuasive, and commands a deep and 
breathless attention. On the conclusion of the service, Mr. 
Wilks invited me into the vestry room, and introduced me 
21 



^43 JOURNAL. 

to the preacher, and the minister of the chapel. I only re- 
gretted the shortness of the interview, which however left a 
pleasing impression on my mind of the gentleness and affa- 
bility of his disposition. He seemed to be a little exhausted 
with the effort of preaching ; and when he rose to cross the 
vestry room, I remarked that, like Israel, he " halted upon 
his thigh." The chapel was filled to overflowing by an au- 
dience, composed principally of niechanicks and labourers, 
who gave a very solemn attention to the exercises of the 
morning. 

In the afternoon, I went to St. Luke's Chapel, Waterloo 
Place, where I learned the Rev. Sydney Smith was to preach 
before the Society for the promotion of Prison Discipline, 
Mr. S. has been formerly known as one of the literary con- 
tributors to the Edinburgh Review ; and is supposed still to 
write for it occasionally. 

" Smug Sydney, too, thy bitter page shall seek." 
His text, from the I02d Psalm, was dismissed as soon as read ; 
and the discourse which followed v/as much in the style of 
an article in the Edinburgh or Quarterly, on Prison discipline. 
With all its looseness and negligence, it was often pithy and 
pointed ; and commanded a good share of attention. This 
was in part to be attributed to a sonorous voice and a grace- 
ful and impressive action : as well as to the vivid and for- 
cible thouo-hts which were occasionally produced. The 
chapel was v/ell filled with the rich and the gay, whose car- 
riages were drawn up in long array in the street : for Water- 
loo Chapel is one of the places of worship at the court end 
of the town, to which it is fashionable to resort on Sundays. 
The building is a neat piece of Tuscan architecture, and ele- 
gantly furnished within. It has been erected about four 

years. 

On my return from church, by the way of Hyde Park, I 
observed a repetition of the scene formerly described. The 
re-appearance of the sun after so long an absence, invited an 
unusual multitude abroad to breathe the invigorating air of the 
park, and to look at each other. Tidings of Lord Byron's 
death are announced in the papers of to-day. 



DRAWING ROOM. 



243 



Thursday. 20. — The long expected drawing room has been 
actually held, and the bustle produced by this important event 
may not perhaps be unworthy of a description. Returning 
about one, from a walk to the eastern part of the town, I 
found Bond Street completely occupied by aline of carriages, 
extending as far as the eye could reach. The day happen- 
ed to be remarkably fine, and the display of equipages was 
such as could not fail to gratify the most ardent admirers of 
style. The procession .began at Cavendish Square, and ex- 
tended along Henrietta, Vine, New Bond, Grafton, and Albe- 
marle streets, into St. James' street, and thence down to the 
palace — an unbroken length of at least a mile. The scene 
v/as amusing enough at the cross streets, where tributary 
streams of carriages were vainly struggling to force their 
way into the main current, which was setting on towards... 
the abode of royalty. The coachmen in the principal 
line, aware that if an entrance were once effected, the whole 
string of equipages in that street would follow, to their own 
no small delay, kept as close to each other as possible, very 
much to the discomfiture of the laced footmen who stood be- 
hind, and the derangement of springs, panels, and ornamen- 
tal work, by the pole of the succeeding carriage. Dire was 
the crashing, and lamentable the havock among these, as 
often as the whole body made a shove towards St. James', 
which happened whenever a fresh load of court dresses was 
discharged at the gate of the palace. Then, whips resoun- 
ded, and coursers sprang, and the whole procession advanced 
just the length of a carriage and its horses, but with an im- 
petus which caused a terrible smashing among the glittering 
vehicles. The concussion appeared to be the greatest at the 
junction of Grafton with New Bond street, where the narrow- 
ness of the passage was still further straitened by some un- 
lucky coal waggons, which found it easier to get into the 
squeeze than to get out. Files of Lifeguardsmen were sta- 
tioned along St. James' street, and about the palace, to pre- 
serve order, and clear the streets of the populace, who were 
collected by thousands to enjoy the spectacle. After elbow- 
ing my way out of the crowd at the palace, where the throng 



244 JOURNAL. 

of spectators was immense, I commenced a peregrination 
along the streets occupied by the procession ; and as the 
glasses were generally down, I enjoyed an excellent oppor- 
tunity of observing at my leisure the personages, great and 
small, who were hastening, or rather, sojourning, to pay their 
duty to Englands's Majesty. Here were gentlemen of the 
army, all radiant in scarlet and embroidery, and glittering 
with stars and badges of distinction — gentlemen of the law, 
in new gowns and full-bottomed wigs — bishops and deans, in 
full ecclesiastical costume — rich citizens and gentry ; and 
strangers, whose narrow purses obliged them to avail them- 
selves of the humbler accommodations of a hackney coach, 
and whose splendor was therefore far from being overpow- 
ering. Should any of the fair honour my humble journal 
with a perusal, they will no doubt desire to be informed how 
the ladies looked ; and I feel bound in honour to gratify their 
curiosity. Be it known, therefore, that with some half-a-doz- 
en exceptions, the display 'of beauty was by no means such, 
as to indicate a remarkable superfluity of this commodity in 
fair England. Two or three, I thought, were eminently beau- 
tiful ; but in a variety of instances, the blending of the rose 
and the lily was too pure and dazzling, to win the unsuspec- 
ting confidence of the beholder. The prevailing dress was 
white satin, revealing quite as much of the person as was 
proper to be exposed ; and their hair was adorned simply 
with a plume of white feathers. Truth obliges me to record, 
that I saw many of them devouring biscuits and other contents 
of Ihe confectioner's shops — a very plebeian occupation for 
such personages, and on such an occasion. But allowance 
must be made for the infirmities of nature, cooped up for hours 
without the power of locomotion. The carriages began to set 
down at one, and continued to roll on till five or six. — But it 
requires the pen of Master Laneham worthily to describe the 
particulars of this day's show. By eight, nothing remained 
of the pageantry save here and there a straggling coach 
movincf homewards at a round trot. The military had dis- 
persed — the music was silent- — the crowd had disappeared — 
the gate of the palace was closed ; and the sentinels were 



SONS OF THE CLERGY. 



245 



set for the night. Thus, does the fashion of this world pass 
away. 

May 21 . — Anniversary of the charity for the sons of the 
clergy. — St. Paul's was opened at eleven for the celebration 
of this anniversary ; and by going early, I got a seat within 
the choir near the chancel. A little before twelve the Duke 
of Clarence arrived, with the Lord Mayor, the SherifTs, &c. 
in his train ; and the service commenced with the Overture 
to Esther performed by a band accompanied with the organ. 
The Duke is a fine looking man, of a robust stature, with a 
long head and high conical forhead. He stood up during 
most of the ceremonies, holding his steward's rod in his 
hand. The musical performers consisted of the singers of 
St. Paul's and those of the chapel royal, besides some pro- 
fessional men ; and a full orchestra of instrumental musick. 
The organist was Atwood, a pupil of Mozart. It is said that 
the late king, discovering in him when quite a child uncom- 
mon musical talents, sent him under his own patronage to 
Germany to be educated. As he is now the organist to the 
chapel royal, it is needless to say that he is esteemed one of 
the best organists in the country. We had the Grand Det- 
tingen Te Deum in lofty style — a piece inferiour, in my ap- 
prehension, to none of Handel's compositions ; and after the 
third Collect, the Grand Hallelujah Chorus. Before the ser- 
mon an anthem, composed by Dr. Boyce for these occasions, 
was performed in admirable style, principally by the boys ; 
and the Coronation Anthem concluded the service. Wish- 
ing to observe the effect of musick at a distance, in such a 
building as St. Paul's, I left the choir before the performance 
of the last anthem, and went to the western extremity of the 
cathedral. Here, the crash of drums, trumpets, horns, viols, 
and voices, in the choral parts, reverberated under the dome, 
and among the arches and pillars, was absolutely stunning — 
it was like the thunder of Niagara. Nothing like a tune 
could be distinguished from this spot — the sound, reflected 
and broken a hundred times by the members of the architect- 
ure, came rolling down like the rush of mighty waters, and 
continued to circulate among the arches long after the cho- 
21* 



246 JOURNAL. 

rus had ceased. The general impression produced on the 
mind was that of subUmity ; a sublimity, not a little height- 
ened by the expanse and lofty proportions of this " solemn 
temple." As for the sermon, I literally did not hear a word 
of it, though I sat within less than a hundred feet of the 
preacher. Service being concluded, the Stewards, Mayor, 
&c. went in procession to Merchant Tailor's Hall in Thread- 
needle street, to dinner. This, I am told, is always given by 
the Stewards for the year ; but each guest is expected to 
contribute a guinea to the charity. My ticket procured me 
admission ; but after waiting till dinner was beginning to be 
brought in, seeing only one or two acquaintances, and those 
apparently much engaged, I retired from the untasted ban- 
quet. There is upon earth no solitude so oppressive, as that 
of sitting at a festive board among a company of utter stran- 
gers. The solitude of the unpeopled wilderness is not to be 
compared with it. 

Sunday, 23. — The morning being fine, I took my way 
through Hyde-park and Kensington Gardens towards Ken- 
sington Church, about two miles from my lodgings. These 
gardens are but a continuation of Hyde-park to the west- 
ward, and are separated from it only by a low wall and ditch. 
They are three and a half miles in circumference ; and in 
going and returning, I made a complete circuit of the grounds. 
They are divided up into lawns, forests, rows and clumps of 
trees ; and intersected by a variety of gravelled walks, af- 
fording a delightful promenade on a fine morning like this, 
when Spring is putting forth her glories, and every copse 
and thicket is vocal. Near the south-eastern angle is an ar- 
tificial mound about thirty feet in height, overlooking the 
serpentine river, the park, and the distant city, and planted 
with trees to the summit. Kensington palace is situated in 
the western part of the grounds — a most irregular pile of 
brick, built at different times, and without the least preten- 
tions to magnificence. It was firet, I believe, made a royal 
residence by William HI. ; and stands in a situation of quiet 
seclusion from the din of the metropolis. Here, George 11^, 
and the Queens, Mary,. Anne, and Caroline expired, Pursu- 



QUEBEC CHAPEL. 247 

ing my walk, I arrived in time at the church ; but felt disap- 
pointed when I learned that the pulpit was to be occupied by 
the Bishop elect of Jamaica — Dr. Rennell, the eloquent and 
highly esteemed Rector, being ill. The s°,rmon was in aid 
of a collection for the national school, and was too common- 
place to be entitled to very high praise. The service how- 
ever was performed in a very impressive and devotional 
manner, and a numerous audience filled the church. 

In the afternoon, I went to Quebec Chapel, a place of 
worship frequented by the higher classes of society. It 
was only partially filled, and that principally by ladies. The 
preacher was a young man of good talents ; but his subject 
was not happily chosen, if his object was to persuade his 
hearers to "bring forth fruits meet for repentance." It was 
merely a well written essay, pointing out the correspondence 
between the prophecies of the dispersion and affliction of the 
Jews, and their present fulfilment. Discussions of this 
kind, sparingly introduced into the pulpit, may be not without 
their use ; but a skeptic will hardly be convinced by them ; 
and a nominal believer is neither very deeply interested nor 
edified by the handling of such trite subjects. Yet it cannot 
be denied, that religion prospers to a great extent under the 
defective preaching, of which there are yet but too many ex- 
amples in the pulpits of the establishment. Large and atten- 
tive congregations are gathered ; and there is obviously more 
piety among the people, than the general style of pulpit in- 
struction seems calculated to create. Much of this unlook- 
ed-for result is doubtless to be attributed to the deep, spiritu- 
al strain of the Liturgy ; which presents an antidote to the 
cold, moralizing discourses, or irrelevant discussions, which 

Play round the head, but come not near the heart. 

Without doubt, our American clergy are before their trans- 
atlantic brethren in the article of faithful preaching, and 
even in pulpit eloquence — in that warmth and directness of 
address, which makes its way to the conscience and feelings 
of the hearer ; however inferiour they may be in classick lore 
and literary taste.. Yet there are many and illustrious ex- 



248 . JOURNAL. 

ceptions to this remark ; the establishment is every year 
numbering more and more of the faithful servants of God 
v/ithin its pale, who bring all their deep and varied stores 
of knowledge to bear on the ministry of reconciliation ; 
and with the success in winning souls to Christ, which scarce- 
ly ever fails to attend the faithful and evangelical exhibition 
of the truths of the gospel. 



CHAPTER XXV. 



HIDE TO OXFORD UXBRIDGE HIGH WYCOMBE OXFORD— PREACHERS — 

LIBRARY OF CHRIST CHURCH LECTURE DR. COPLESTON ADDISON's 

WALK BODLEIAN LIBRARY POMFRET STATUES ROWING MATCH 

CHAPEL OF NEW COLLEGE STAINED GLASS. 

May 29. — This morning, at half past nine, I clambered up 
an Oxford coach, and seated myself on the top in company 
with ten others — four insides being all the ballast to act as 
a counterpoise to such an enormous deck-load, augmented by 
a sufficient quantity of trunks and other travelling gear. Af- 
ter half an hour's detention (a most unusual occurrence in 
this country) in taking in passengers and stowing away bag- 
gage, we got fairly under weigh and trundled out of London 
by Hyde Park corner. A coach-full of phlegmatic New 
Englanders would not have been more taciturn than my com- 
panions were. After the bustle of " getting off," all lips were 
sealed — some yielded themselves to the soft influence of sleep ; 
others seemed to be dreaming with their eyes open, so that I 
had ample leisure to enjoy once more the luxury of green 
fields and I'ural prospects, after being so long condemned to 
gaze with " lack-lustre eyes," on the pavements of Wimpole 
street. 

Our road lay through Acton, Uxbridge, and High-Wy- 
combe ; (pronounced High-Wickom) and presented little 
diversity of scenery, and but few objects to claim attention. 



RIDE TO OXFORD. 249 

To Uxbridge, the country is generally level. This is a mar- 
ket town of considerable size, and rather antique in its ap- 
pearance. Hayes, the residence of Lord Chatham, lies 
three or four miles nearer London, and a short distance from 
the road. On driving out of Uxbridge we crossed the Coin, 
which comes winding down from St. Alban's through a nar- 
row irregular valley, bounded by gently swelling hills. The 
day was sultry, and the smokiness of the atmosphere hinder- 
ed an extensive prospect, while it threw a softness over the 
scenery similar to that which is observable in the climate of 
New-England, on a hazy day in autumn. An easterly wind 
dr'ifted Macadam's dust along with us ; so that we moved, 
like the Trojan here of old, amicti spissa nuhe. Indeed, it is 
questionable whether the cloud which overshadowed that il- 
lustrious man was any thing more etherial than a cloud of 
dust, notwithstanding the poet would have us believe that it 
was a celestial vapour, specially got up for a little stage ef- 
fect. Twenty miles from London, we passed Bulstrode on 
the left, a country residence of the Duke of Somerset. The 
house is completely hidden by clumps of trees ; but the park 
is beautifully varied, and very extensive. At Loudwater, 
the road winds down the brow of a hill to the Wye, a small 
stream which meanders through a narrow valley, and gives 
name to Wycombe-Marsh, High-Wycombe, and West-Wy. 
combe, villages situated on its banks. On the south side of 
the stream, and on a beautiful green elevation, stands Wy- 
combe Abbey, half covered with trees. It is a gray-looking, 
castellated mansion, with a number of large round towers, 
built in imitation of the ancient baronial castles. It is the 
seat of Lord Carrington. High-Wycombe is situated in the 
valley on the north side of the Wye, and contains a popula- 
tion of about 3,000. A few miles further on is West- Wy- 
combe, remarkable for nothing but the huge ball on the 
tower of the church, and a mausoleum belonging to Sir John 
Dashwood King, both situated on the top of a steep hill. The 
latter is a temple of Grecian architecture, apparently as large 
as an ordinary parish church. The residence of the knight 
is beautifully situated in the midst of a park on the south side 



330 JOURNAL. 

of the stream. The road for some distance hes along the 
verdant banks of the Wye ; but after leaving it, nothing of 
particular interest occurs to claim the attention of the travel- 
ler. The soil is generally chalky, and far from being fertile 
— extensive downs, covered with yellow blossoms offer no 
very cheering prospect to the eye ; and the country is for the 
most part level, with here and there a descent of sufficient 
steepness to render it necessary to chain a wheel of the 
coach. Oxford is not seen from this direction till you come 
to the brow of Shotover hill, within a mile or two of the city ; 
Avhere it stands revealed in all its fair beauty. You descend 
between high, chalky banks ; and crossing the Charwell a 
little above its junction within the Isis, by a neat stone bridge 
with numerous arches, you enter High-Street close by the 
chapel of Magdalen College. Here we arrived about four 
in the afternoon ; and were set down at the Mitre Inn. 

The next day being Sunday, I repaired in the morning to 
Christ Church Chapel ; and heard a dissertation by Dr. Ni- 
coll, Regius Professor of Hebrew, on the coincidencies and 
discrepancies between the narratives of the Evangelists, so 
wholly critical, that it did not contain a single practical re- 
mark. Must there not be something faulty in a plan, which 
dispenses entirely with every thing like an application to the 
conscience, in a sermon before an audience consisting partly 
of students of the University ? In the afternoon I went to St. 
Mary's, the University church. The preacher happened to 
be the Rev. Mr.~ Spry of Birmingham ; and his discourse, 
like that to which I had listened in the morning, was wholly 
destitute of any practical application — it was merely a dis- 
sertation on the divinity of Jesus. Surely, the young men 
of the University must be endued with a plenitude of right- 
eousness, thus to render unnecessary the zealous exhorta- 
tions of the man of God. Between the services, I had the 
pleasure of an introduction to Dr. Lloyd the Regius Profes- 
sor of Divinity. He is an intelligent, agreeable man, with a 
countenance strongly expressive of these qualities. At six, 
I went into St. Martin's, one of the parish churches in the 
city ; and heard a very energetic, practical discourse, from a 



CHRIST CHURCH LIBRARY. 251 

clergyman whose name I did not learn. It was quite re- 
freshing to hear a sermon chai-acterized at once by talent 
and unction, after the dry dissertations to which I had given 
ear. The responses, the musick, the universdl attention giv- 
en to the religious exercises, — all indicated a more than 
common interest in the institutions of divine worship. The 
interior of the church much resembles that at New-Haven, 
but is of smaller dimensions. 

On the following day, May 30th, I breakfasted in the Hall 
of Christ Church ; and afterwards went to look at the Libra- 
ry. This is a noble Doric building in Peckwater quadran- 
gle, upwards of 140 feet in length, and two stories high. It 
was designed, I believe, by Dean Aldrich ; a man, whose 
universal genius qualified him to succeed in whatever he at- 
tempted, and who was alike distinguished as a scholar, a 
musician, an architect, and a divine. The books are con- 
tained in a gallexy in the upper story ; while the lower is occu- 
pied by a collection of paintings presented by General Guise ; 
busts, and other specimens of the fine arts. The paintings 
are for the most part indifferent copies from the works of 
eminent masters ; and although marked with the names of 
Raffaell, Titian, Correggio, &c., by no means answer the 
expectations excited by the mention of these worthies of 
Italy. A portrait of the first Prince of Orange, marked 
Guido, was good enough to be an original. 

After a lounge of an hour or two among the books and 
pictures, we went to the Radcliff Library, to hear a lecture 
from Dr. Kidd on comparative anatomy. The class was but 
moderately large ; and the subject, naturally dry, was not 
enlivened by any attempt on the part of the lecturer to render 
it more engaging. He isevidenly, however, a sensible man, 
and a man of science. 

The lecture being over, I waited on Dr. Copleston, Provost 
of Oriel College, with my letters, and was kindly detained 
by him an hour in his library. I was charmed with his intel- 
ligence and amiable disposition, and the truly religious spirit 
which he manifested in his conversation. He remarked, 
that the German criticks are growing worse and worse — they 



252 JOURNAL, 

are stripping Christianity of every thing peculiar, and redu- 
cing it to Deism of the lowest description. Dr. C. has 
already attained a high rank among the divines of this 
country. 

Through the politeness of the Rev. Mr. Hook, one of the 
students of Christ Church, to whom I have already been 
indebted for many agreeable attentions, I was introduced to a 
number of the students of his college, and dined with them 
in the hall. The Students of Christ Church, let it be remem- 
bered, are the same as the Fellows of the other colleges, and 
are always one hundred and one in number. After dinner, a 
party adjourned to the combination room to crack nuts and 
sip wine ; and in their agreeable society an hour passed 
rapidly away. 

The next morning, we went to " The Schools," to attend 
the examination which is now going forward, and sat there 
for an hour. Only three or four of the students are present 
at once, and the whole morning is spent in their examination, 
which is conducted with the utmost strictness. The rest of 
the morning was passed in rambling about the city and 
grounds belonging to the different colleges, some of which 
are beautifully and tastefully laid out. " Addison's Walk" 
in " Maudlin's learned grove" is still remembered as the 
favourite walk of that delightful moralist, while he was a 
fellow of Magdalen college ; and certainly, no scene could 
be imagined more inviting to a contemplative mind, than its 
shady and secluded retreats. The grounds border on the 
placid Charwell rendered dark by the overhanging foliage ; 
and a broad gravelled walk, " hidden from day's garish eye" 
by a canopy of forest trees and shrubs, winds along the 
margin of the stream, whose waves seem to sleep in their 
bed. 

Descriptions of Oxford are so common in books of travels, 
that it would be quite superfluous to make up another from 
the " Guides, Views, Surveys," &c. which book-makers 
find so prodigiously useful in enlarging the narrative of their 
peregrinations. Let not the gentle reader suppose that he 
is indebted to the laborious researches of a tourist for a 



BODLEIAN LIBRARY. 253 

twentieth part of the information contained in his journal ; 
nor that he has actually and minutely examined any very 
large proportion of the objects he pretends to describe. Not 
at all. The compilers of the aforesaid " Guides," those 
pioneers in peripatetic literature, have prepared all this to his 
hands ; aud hence the wonderful coincidence which often 
appears, between the language and descriptions of the 
journal, and tho^e of the Guide-book. I have sometimes 
amused myself with comparing them, in the case of some 
traveller of established fame ; and it has greatly abated my 
surprise — 

" How one small head could cany all he knew." 
But all this is nothing to Oxford or the University ; the histo- 
ry of neither of which, is it my present purpose to give. If 
I describe a few things as I saw them, with the impressions 
they produced on my own mind, the reader, I hope, will 
excuse me for omitting a great deal of curious and edifying 
intelligence, which would cost only the labour of transcri- 
bing. 

Mr. Henderson, a student and private tutor of Christ 
Church, was so obliging as to accompany me to the Bodleian 
Library — a noble monument of private munificence. A 
description of a library is a very dry business, and ipay 
therefore be pretermitted. Yet there is something gratifying 
to one's antiquarian feelings in turning over the leaves of 
the beautifully illuminated missal of that pious Defender of 
the Faith, the last Henry ; and in reading a page or two of 
Queen Bess' Latin Exercise book. The collection of manu- 
scripts in this library is known to be very various and ex- 
tensive. Recesses are formed in the sides of the room, and 
separated from it by screens and curtains, for the conven- 
ience of those who wish to consult the library. The exten- 
sive apartment in which the books are lodged, has a rich, 
dark coloured, Gothic ceiling of wood. In the second story 
of the same building is the " picture gallery," the description 
of which must be postponed till after another visit. 

The famous " Pomfret statues" also passed under review ; 
and having formerly examined the Elgin marbles ii^ the 
22 i 



254 JOURNAL. 

British Museum with some attention, I must confess my ina- 
bihty to admire excessively, busts, without ears or noses ; and 
headless, fingerless, armless, legless, corroded, weather- 
bieaten statues, which, whatever might once have been their 
merit, now scarcely bear a resemblance to the human form. 
There is in the collection a very spirited Cicero, in tolera- 
ble preservation — the drapery well disposed — the lines of the 
face bold, and the brows knit as if with strong emotion. He 
stands in a graceful and commanding attitude of speaking. 
The forehead is rather narrow, but the head is broad behind 
the temples, where the veins appear swollen with the vehe- 
mence of his excitement — so minute was the attention of 
the artist to the truth of nature. He seems to be uttering one 
of his philippicks, or denouncing the conspirator Cataline. 
A Jupiter tonans, with his awful brow, is also much admired 
by the cognoscenti. — A Venus is worthy of admiration on ac- , 
count of her graceful drapery ; and another for the beauty 
of her form ; but both, by some unhappy mischance, have 
lost their heads and arms, and been re -fitted with these useful 
appendages by a modern chisel. — A Flora, too, wore her 
gown very gracefully ; but some evil hap had enviously be- 
reft her of her nose. — There was also a little bandy-legged 
Hercules, which seemed to have been modelled after a splay- 
footed young African : — a broad-shouldered, sturdy Camilla, 
as unlike the aerial form, which 

Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main, 

as a stout two-handed fish-woman is to Ronzi de Vestris ; but 
on a second look I observed that she had been fitted with a 
new pair of runners ; — a bust of Diana, with a very nicely 
and modestly adjusted tunic ; and a Caius Marius, very pas- 
sable. There is something very jarring to one's tasteful feel- 
ings, in the mutilations which these monuments of antiquity 
have undergone. When I look at a Grecian belle, whose 
beauty has been marred by the abruption of her nose — one 
of the most common misfortunes — and been still more disfig- 
ured by awkward and ineflfectual attempts to replace the fea- 
ture ; or at what was once a smooth-faced Apollo, with his 



SCENE ON THE fSIS. 



255 



plump lips worn away, and his cheekscorroded into a honey, 
comb, by exposure to many a pelting storm from the Adriatic 
— his fingers snapped off, or skewered to his side by iron 
cramps, and an arm or an ear of modern manufacture stuck 
on with putty ; or at a Roman senator, in whom no features 
of the face are distinguishable ; or at a Demosthenes or a 
Trajan, without a head — -jacet ingens truncus, avulsumque 
humeris caput, — or at a Venus so corroded and defaced, 
as to leave all the beauties of feature and form to be supplied 
by the imagination ; I feel that I am deficient in the taste or 
the enthusiasm necessary to a profound admiration of these 
mutilated remains of ancient art. 

The banks of the Isis presented this evening a most ani- 
mated scene. Just before sun-set, the students assembled 
by hundreds along the river, to the south of Christ Church 
Walk, to be the spectators of a rowing match between the 
elite of Exeter and Brazennose. Large parties had gone 
half a mile down the river to catch the earliest glimpse of 
the rival boats ; others were distributed in groups over the 
plain, or stood along the green margin of the stream ; and 
all appeared to enter, with the joyousness and animation pe- 
culiar to youth, into the spirit of the contest which was about 
to be decided. At length, when expectation was at the high- 
est, " a shout, loud as from numbers v/ithout number," from 
the throng which covered a bridge at the farthest verge of the 
plain, announced the appearance of the boats ; and in a few 
minutes they came flying through the water in very gallant 
style. First came the flower of Brazennose, in a pearl-colour- 
ed eight-oared cutter, each rower stripped to his shirt sleeves, 
and resplendent with the yelloio badge of his college. A few 
feet astern followed the youth of Exeter, decorated with a 
crimson scarf, in a cutter of dazzling white, and impelled by 
the same number of oars. The cheers of the spectators 
made the welkin ring ; and old father Isis, vexed in his deep-. 
est recesses by the sturdy strokes of the oarsmen, dashed 
his waves indignantly against the shore. A victory at the 
Olympian games could not have been contested with a more 
ardent spirit of emulation. By some mismanagement on 



256 JOURNAL. 

the part of the Brazennose steersman, they almost lost the 
little distance they had gained ; and the cutters came out so 
nearly equal that it was decided to be " all but a bump." 
To add to the spirit and joyousness of the scene, groups of 
ladies were hovering about in the walks at a distance ; and 
the river was thickly bestudded with beautiful little two-oared 
shallops. These trials of speed frequently take place du- 
ring the fine part of the season, and afford a manly and un- 
exceptionable recreation to the students. The Isis, which is 
here five or six rods wide, and rolls placidly through the 
meadows, presents every desirable facility for such exhibi- 
tions. I think I have already remarked, that the young men 
of this country have an appearance of greater muscular 
strength and capabiUty of bodily exertion, than those of the 
United States. I speak now of the class which is usually 
found at the seats of learning. They use far more vigorous 
exercise than the pallid students of our American colleges ; 
and are in consequence much less frequently the victims of 
debility, dyspepsia, and all the abhorred train of ills, mental 
and bodily, which result from a too sedentary life. The 
beautiful pleasure grounds attached to many of the colleges, 
offer tempting inducements to quit the cells of study for re- 
creation, during the allotted leisure hours. " Christ Church 
Walk" is one of the noblest promenades I have ever seen. 
It is a walk of hard gravel, forty feet in breadth, lined by a 
double row of most majestic elms, and nearly half a mile 
long. It is quite on the south side of the city, and opens 
into the extensive meadows traversed by the serpentine Isis. 
Archery is also among the favourite exercises of the students, 
and is carried to a high degree of perfection. Witness the 
butts, perforated with many a cloth yard shaft, to be seen in 
the environs of the University. 

The Chapel of New College is deservedly reckoned one 
of the most beautiful buildings in Oxford. The screen over 
the communion table, with its marble sculptures in alto re- 
lievo — its tesselated pavement of white and black marble — 
its ante-chapel, painted windows, and organ, have all been 
made, in their turn, the theme of deserved eulogy. What- 



NEW COLLEGIA CHAPEL. 257 

ever may be said in praise of the early specimens of stained 
glass, it is certain that those of more modern date, like the 
Flemish windows on the south side of this chapel, are in 
some points greatly superior. The figures are drawn with 
much greater attention to truth, and will better endure ex- 
amination, although the colours are less deep and vivid. 
The first view of one of the ancient windows — of those for 
instance in King's College Chapel in Cambridge — is splendid 
and gorgeous beyond description. But on a nearer examin- 
ation, you find that the figures are composed of small bits of 
glass, each of which is uniformly coloured throughout. The 
shading is therefore attained, where any thing like shading 
is attempted, by joining together several small pieces, of a 
different depth of colour. It is, in fact, a species of irregu- 
lar mosaic, in which little attention is paid to accuracy or 
proportion in the figures. The glass, instead of being in- 
serted in squares or diamonds, is of every possible form and 
size, according to the place in the figure each piece is des- 
tined to occupy. But in the more modern windows, the 
lights are of uniform shape and dimensions, and the colour is 
spread over them as on canvass. The figures are conse- 
quently far more distinct and better drawn ; and although the 
art of preparing colours of such extraordinary depth and viv- 
idness as appear in windows of the oldest date, seems to 
have been lost, the modern colouring has far more of nature 
and truth. The windows on the north side of the chapel are 
of English workmanship, and were constructed so as to cor- 
respond with the Flemish ones on the opposite side. They 
were inserted about fifty years since, when the chapel was 
in a great measure rebuilt ; but are inferior to the opposite 
ones in the spirit of the drawings, and the depth of the col- 
ours. The great window in the ante-chapel is deservedly 
admired for the beauty of its figures and the group of the na- 
tivity, which are the productions of the pencils of Sir Joshua 
Reynolds and Mr. Jervois, Here, the colouring is still fight- 
er, and very mellow. I am at a loss to conceive what gave 
rise to the popular belief, that the art of dying glass was for 
a time lost ; unless it arose from the acknowledged inability 



258 



JOURNAL. 



of the moderns to rival the intense colours of the ancients. 
The latter might have had some method of preparing their 
colours, which has not been handed down ; but the beautiful 
stained windows in various parts of England, constructed in 
every age since the art was known, are a proof that it has 
never been forgotten. The crosier of William of Wyckham, 
one of the early benefactors of New College, is kept behind 
a panel in the chancel, and is shown to visiters. It is rich- 
ly chased in silver, and weighs about sixteen pounds. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



©XFORD — PICTURE GALLERY ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM PROFESSOR BUCK- 
LAND BELL OF CHRIST CHURCH RADCLIFF LIBRARY HIGH STREET 

DISTANT VIEW OF OXFORD CUMNOR HALL ANNOYANCES — RE- 
TURN TO LONDON. 

On a second visit to the picture gallery, I found after all 
no great display of master-pieces ; at least, the productions 
of eminent merit were by no means numerous. The sub- 
jects are principally portraits ; and those by Vandyke, Knel- 
ler, Lely, &c. will always maintain a distinguished rank 
among the works of their class. An Earl of Stafford, by the 
first mentioned artist, I thought one of the best in the col- 
lection ; and a Sir Kenelm Digby by the same hand is also 
very fine. Sir Peter Lely's Charles II., and his Queen, as 
well as his James II. and Queen, are fine pictures ; and his 
Butler (the author of Hudibras) altogether admirable. The 
painter has been less successful in his portrait of the histori- 
an of the rebellion, which is done in a style so difl^erent as to 
appear to have been the offspring of another pencil. Those 
by Sir Godfrey Kneller, his William and Mary, Addison, «fec. 
certainly belong to a higher school than almost any modern 
works ; but his portrait of Robert Nelson, the expositor of 
*' the ritual year of England's Church," appeared to me to 



PROFESSOR BUCKLAND. 259 

be the best of his works in the gallery. A Duke of Grafton 
by Sir J. Reynolds is faded away, like all the pictures of that 
once eminent painter. He seems to have been singularly 
unlucky in the preparation of his colours ; for although only 
a century has elapsed since deserved admiration was be- 
stowed on his pictures, the colouring has almost disappeared 
from the canvass. The School of Athens, by Julio Romano, 
is much commended, although suspected to be only a copy. 
The Seven Vices on copper, lighted by torches, by Schalken, 
are badly coloured, and have less expression than one would 
look for in such a subject. A Roman soldier, turning with 
abhorrence from the dead body of a Christian martyr, is ad- 
mirable for its horrible truth. The " earthly house of this 
tabernacle" is dissolving, with the painful accompaniment of 
reptiles and corruption ; and the sight, occurring unexpect- 
edly to the soldier, causes him to turn away with mingled 
horror and disgust. The gallery also contains some models, 
casts, &c,, some of which deserve an examination ; and the 
bronze Statue of the Earl of Pembroke, by Le Soeur, cased 
in armour, looks fiercely over the heads of the spectators. 

The Ashmolean Museum, with the exception of a few an- 
antiquities, contains little that is remarkable. The curioua 
are shown here the crystal-hilted sword presented by his ho- 
liness to Henry VHI. when he complimented him with the 
title of Defender of the Faith : Queen Elizabeth's watch, in 
shape and size not unlike a small apple : King Alfred's jew- 
el : a wooden tankard : an old shoe : a horn which grew out 
of the head of an old woman : a mummy ; and the dried 
head of a New-Zealand warriour. 

But the Geological collection is more worthy of attention, 
and contains many curious organic remains, gathered from 
all parts of the earth. The study of geology is now very 
prevalent in the University, and the talents of Professor Buck- 
land are well calculated to render it popular. I had the 
pleasure of attending one of his lectures, and was delighted 
with his enthusiasm. He evidently combines some of the 
most desirable qualities of a lecturer — a quick and retentive 
memory ; a vast range of knowledge of facts connected with 



260 JOURNAL. 

the science ; strong and discriminating judgment, sometimes 
perhaps overmastered by his zeal in defending a favourite 
theory ; and great fluency of utterance. Indeed he scarcely 
paused for an instant, in a lecture of an hour and a half long. 
He has, too, the happy talent of introducing forcible and per- 
tinent illustrations of his subjects. I was gratified by an in- 
troduction to him, after the lecture was over ; and found him 
as agreeable in conversation, as he was entertaining and in- 
structive in his professor's chair. Whatever may be the in- 
herent merits of this science, the genius of Cuvier and Buck- 
land has insured it at least a temporary popularity. It would 
not be surprising, however, if, when the freshness of the 
newly investigated science shall have exhaled, people should 
return to the conviction, that no certain conclusions can be 
drawn, relative to the primeval formation of the earth and 
the changes it has since undergone, from an examination of 
the strata on its surface, and the organic remains imbedded 
in the rocks. It may at least be pronounced a harmless 
pursuit, so long as the geologist is content to receive the Mo- 
saic account of the creation, in preference to the uncertain 
register of that event, which he fancies he can read in the 
formation and positions of the various earthy strata. 

After dinner in the hall of Christ Church,''" one of the Stu- 
dents accompanied me to the Anatomical Theatre, where we 
were shown some fine preparations. The skeletons of a 
male and female, admirably put together, and dependent 
from the ceiling, presented a rather startling spectacle as we 
entered the room. My next amusement was in clambering 
up into the tower of Christ Church, which contains the heav- 
iest bell in England. Its height is 5 feet 9 inches ; diameter 
7 feet, and thickness 6 inches. It weighs 17,000 pounds. 
The present one is a re-cast from an old one, which formerly 
bore the following uncouth inscription in monkish latin : — 

" In ThomaB laude resono, bim bom sine fraude." 
If the line had stopped in the middle, the motto would not 



* Christ Church, it will be recollected, is the name of one of the 
Colleges, and not of a place of divine worship. 



RADCLIFF LIBRARY. 261 

have been altogether so bad. Having been once baptized, 
like other large bells, according to the popish ritual, by the 
name of the saint, it is still called Magnus Thomas — vulgar- 
ly the Great Tom. On being struck with the clapper, the 
vibrations was astounding, confined as they were by the walls 
of the tower. The clapper alone weighs 342 pounds. Ev- 
ery evening at ten minutes past nine, it tolls 101 times, that 
being the number of Students or Fellows of Christ Church. 
This is the signal for shutting the gates. 

The next day, I had the pleasure of extending my ac- 
quaintance among the officers of the University, and found 
them generally men of highly agreeable manners. In the 
Masters of Colleges, we expect of course to see men of supe- 
rior intellectual attainments ; while by their constant inter- 
course with the best society in the landj they acquire an air 
of accomplished gentlemen of the world, far removed from 
the stiffiiess and taciturnity of the cloister. To Messrs. 
Henderson and Short of Christ Church, the latter one of the 
Proctors of the University, I have been indebted for many of 
those obliging attentions, which more particularly deserve 
acknowledgment, as they cannot be shown without a sacri- 
fice of valuable time. 

In my rambles to-day, I took a peep into the beautiful Di- 
vinity School ; and afterwards ascended the dome of the Rad- 
cliff Library. This is a charming specimen of Grecian 
architecture, and would make a fine appearance in any other 
locality than among the turreted Gothic buildings of Oxford. 
As a matter of taste, it is much to be regretted, that the old 
colleigiate style has not been preserved in all the recent build- 
ings of the University. The day being uncommonly fine, I had 
a beautiful and commanding view of the colleges scattered 
around at my feet — the verdant meadows which quite en- 
compass the city, and the Isis and Charwell meandering 
through the plain. Oxford, indeed, seems to rise out of the 
bosom of a meadow ; and the verdant lawns and venerable 
trees which are every where interspersed, give it a highly 
rural appearance. Compared with Cambridge, it has the ad- 
vantage in many respects, although it can boast of no one 



262 



JOURNAL. 



building equal to King's College Chapel. High Street is 
one continued range of collegiate palaces, where the eye is 
saluted at every step with massy buttresses, bristling turrets, 
groined arch ways, crenellated parapets, and the quaint and 
curious tracery pecuhar to this style of architecture. The 
slightly serpentine line of the street rather improves, than 
detracts from, the general appearance, as it brings the vari- 
ous piles successively into view, instead of presenting them 
all at once. When viewed in a moonlight night, it looks like 
a city of the genii in fairy land. 

Friday, June 4. — After dinner, I took the Bath road, in- 
tending to gain an eminence which appeared to overlook the 
city ; and to continue my walk to Cumnor Hall. The first 
mile and a half of the road lay over the plain, and crossed 
a number of streams tributary to the Isis. About two and 
a half miles from the town, I reached the top of a hill which 
I had marked from the dome of Radcliff Library ; and was 
repaid by a prospect, rich, extensive, and beautiful. The 
whole horizon to the north-westward, with the exception of 
a portion hidden by a small eminence, lay spread out before 
me. Very distant but gentle elevations, half lost in vapour, 
bounded the prospect ; while a vast circular plain, glittering 
here and there with the rays of a bright sun reflected from 
the rivers, and villages, and hamlets, and spires, and hedges 
endlessly ramified — lay spread out at my feet as on a map. 
In the midst of this beautiful panorama, Oxford, with all its 
dun palaces, towers and pinnacles, lay basking in the level- 
led rays of the sun ; and from the position where I stood 
seemed to be blended into one mass, having the dark green, 
and occasional chalky spots, of Shotover hill, for its back 
ground. After regaling my sight awhile with the lovely 
landscape, and enjoying th^e cool breeze which swept over 
the hill, I pursued my walk ; and about a mile beyond, turned 
off the main road down a lane, which wound along between 
lofty hedges, and soon brought me to Cumnor — the scene of 
Leicester's loves, and of the mysterious crime into which he 
was plunged by his ambition. The narrow walk, which for 
some distance had led over level ground, descends a little as 



CUMNOR HALL. 263 

it approaches Cumnor — a hamlet, composed of a few small, 
straggling, thatched cottages, inhabited by poor tenants to 
Lord Abington, the proprietor of the village. The vicarage 
stands on the left, just at the brow of a small descent ; and a 
little farther on, and more remote from the road, are the ruins 
of Cumnor Hall, close by the village church. — Having 
enquired out the sexton, the oracle usually consulted on such 
occasions, I entered his humble dwelling. " Are you the 
sexton, sir 1" " Why yes. Sir ; I am clerk of the parish here" 
— placing a slight emphasis on the name which designated 
his vocation. His good woman was sipping her doctors' 
stuff by the fire, and was growing rather tediously eloquent 
on the subject of her ailments, when the return of my guide 
in his Sunday's coat, and the keys of the church, interrupted 
her catalogue of complaints. As we went towards the 
church, I enquired if the place had been much visited ? 
" Why yes ; for a spell, after a novel I heard talk of was 
printed a v/hile ago, a wonderful sight of young folks used 
to ride out here and look about, particularly in the vocation at 
Oxford. But it did'nt last long." On farther enquiry, I saw 
reason to congratulate myself on having a guide so well ac- 
quainted with the traditions and localities of the place, and 
gathered from him the following particulars. His ancestors 
had been tenants in the village for many generations ; and 
he himself had spent the early part of his life in Cumnor 
Hall, which was pulled down about fifteen years since. The 
foundations are still remaining, and mark out the exact shape 
and dimensions of the Hall. It was a quadrangle, seventy 
or eighty feet square, entered by a gateway on the north side. 
The stair-case, in the adjoining corridor of which the tragedy 
is supposed to have been acted, was in the angle at the right 
of the entrance ; and in the south-western angle was, as my 
cicerone informed me, a richly carved room, which always 
went by the name of " Lady Dudley's Chamber," and which 
had the reputation of being haunted. None of the family 
would go into it after dark ; but, said my honest informant, 
" I lived in the house a good many years, man and boy ; and 
must say I never seed nor heard anything strange about it. 



864 JOURNAL. 

The house looked like one of the colleges at Oxford, and had 
a wondrous sight of carved work in it, and painted glass in 
the windows, and was fit for a gentleman to live in ; but it was 
thought to be haunted, and folks imagined they heard strange 
noises there ; and latterly, nobody but farmers and such like 
lived in it." As for Tony Fire -the -fagot, he was a real 
personage, whose memory is still execrated among the villa- 
gers, for his parsimony and acts of oppression, of which my 
guide recounted a few. The most conspicuous monument in 
the church is one in the chancel to the memory of this same 
Anthony Foster, with a brass plate bearing his effigies en- 
graved upon it, along with those of his wife and three chil- 
dren. He is represented as a knight cased in armour, in a 
kneeling attitude, with his hands uplifted in prayer, his hel- 
met being laid aside. A long and tedious eulogy is engraved 
beneath, setting forth in Latin the rare virtues of his charac- 
ter and his exemplary piety. The instrument begins with the 
words Antonius Fostp:r ; while that of his wife commences 
with Anna Romolda Wii^liams. So much for this worthy 
gentleman, whom the author of Kenilworth has immortalized 
in his tale. The stained glass of the Hall has all been de- 
stroyed, with the exception of a small piece which is inserted 
in a window of the church. It represents a female keeling 
by the side of a chair in the act of devotion. 

From the wall of the church-yard, the ground gradually 
slopes towards the west, and commands a most extensive 
view in that direction as well as to the south, over a gently 
undulating country. A little distance below the ruins, the 
surface again becomes level, and is adorned with hedges and 
ancient elms ; but soon slopes off in a long and gradual de- 
scent, till it is lost in the immense plain which stretches to 
the farthest verge of the horizon. Here, then, was the beau- 
tiful Countess immured in splendid captivity, happily igno- 
rant of the treacherous game her ambitious lord was playing, 
the stake of which was a participation of the throne with his 
imperial mistress. Here, too, if the surmises of historians 
can be rehed on, she perished, at least with the connivance 
of the illustrious Leicester, her wedded husband. Sitting on 



ANNOYANCES. 265 

liie wall of the church-yard, as the bright sun was sinking in^ 
to the west, and all around was tranquil, save the sky-larks 
which were pouring out their wild warblings ; as I looked 
down on the ruins of Cumnor Hall, I could not help thinking 
over the circumstances of the tragedy, of which this spot had 
been the scene, and the story of which has been so affect- 
ingly narrated by the historical novelist. On a farther ex- 
amination of the ruins, I found a deep arched vault beneath 
the corridor, which led to the fatal stair-case, now partly fill- 
ed with rubbish. It was now nearly sunset, and I sat out on 
my return. On reaching the summit of the hill I have be- 
fore described, I once more paus2d to enjoy the beautiful 
prospect it commands ; and resuming my walk, arrived in 
the evening at my lodgings. 

A stranger must expect to meet with annoyances — what 
situation in life is without its annoyances ? — from the menials 
attached to the difierent colleges, who are wondei'fully offi- 
cious in offering their services. If he pauses in his walk to 
look at a building, or to study out and admire at his leisure 
the quaint devices and grotesque imagery on an ancient 
chapel ; immediately a guide is at his elbow proffering his 
services to conduct him through it. If they are rejected, he 
begs his honour to give him something for the services he 
would have rendered. I have generally had them hanging 
about me during my walks among the colleges, effectually 
dispelling by their importunities the delightful reveries one is 
so fond of cherishing among these classick shades. They 
swarm in every quadrangle, and about every gate, giving you 
information which you had before, and tormenting you at 
every step with their officiousness ; and in conclusion, de- 
mand a reward for the trouble they give you. Were a stran. 
ger to surrender himself to their guidance, ten dollars would 
scarcely suffice to pay for his pilotage through the [buildings 
of the University. Of the insolence of some of them I had a 
taste, in visiting the famous Clarendon Printing Office, One 
of the operators began very officiously to show me the mys- 
teries of a common stereotype plate, and to explain the most 
common operations of prijxting. I shook him off, knowi 
23 



266 



JOURNAL. 



ing that it was only a prelude to a demand on my purse, and 
passed on. After making the circuit of the room, in which 
there were nearly twenty presses at work, I was going out, 
when my persecutor left his press, and stepped between me 
and the door — "Well, Sir, if you understand these matters, 
as you say you do, you'll give something towards the funds 
of the University press ?" Not feeling in a humour to en- 
courage such impudence, I put him aside ; and as I went out, 
heard him shut the door after me with great violence, and 
set up a loud hoot of derision. This is a solitary specimen 
of the manners of English menials employed about any pub- 
lic establishment. All delicacy, all sense of shame or hon- 
ourable feeling in them, is extinguished, by this universal 
spirit of beggary and extortion. It renders them crouching 
and servile where money is expected, and impudent in the 
last degree when they are disappointed. Let travellers in 
America see to this, before it is too late. Let them reli- 
giously abstain from feeing waiters, and stage drivers, and 
servants of every description, if they would not destroy all 
self-respect in these classes of our population, and ultimately 
render them as shameless and as impudent as the same class- 
es in England, besides entailing on posterity a nuisance and 
a curse. 

Saturday, June 5. — After calling on a few of my friends, I 
prepared to return to London. All the early coaches arriv- 
ing full, I was obliged to wait till the afternoon before I could 
secure a seat ; and then it was in a coach which returned by 
the road I had travelled a few days before. I arrived in Lon- 
don about eight, and took up my residence in my former 
lodgings. 



A LAZY PARSON. 267 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



LONDON -A LAZY PARSON SPRING AND LANGAN ANNIVERSARY OF 

CHARITY CHILDREN AT ST. PAUL's PREACHER AT AUDLEY CHAPEL 

BALLOOKING ASCENT FROM PENTONVILLE. 

Sunday, June 6. — This morning I attended service at Christ 
Church, Newgate Street, where a very large and attentive 
audience was assembled as usual. The number of commu- 
nicants present must have amounted to near four hundred. 
It was Whitsunday, and we had a most excellent discourse 
adapted to the season, from the Rector, Mr. Crowther. I 
had the pleasure of an introduction to him after the service 
was over, and was favourably impressed with his good sense 
and agreeable manners. 

The congregation and performance at Mary-le-bone chapel 
in the afternoon were in all respects a contrast to those in 
the morning. The parson mumbled over the service in a 
most languishing style, lazily reclining on one side of the desk. 
His knees were too stiff to allow him to kneel ; and it seem- 
ed too mighty an effort for him to bow at the name of Jesus. 
He had a fine voice, but was really too indolent to give it any 
force ; and so let it flow gently and softly through the lessons 
and collects, with a most delightfully composing effect on his 
fifty auditors. His sermon was far better than I had antici- 
pated from such a beginning; indeed,- the quantity of good 
divinity contained in it, together with the intermixture of cer- 
tain phrases which had a strong smack of antiquity, led to 
some most uncharitable doubts hov/ much of it was his own. 
He was certainly to be commended, however, for the judg. 
ment displayed in the selection. 

Tuesday, June 8ih. — A hawker is now under my window, 
bawling — " A true account of the fight between Spring and 
Langau for £500." This took place this afternoon at 3 
o'clock, and sixty miles from London. It is now 10 in the 



268 JOURNAL. 

evening. In the space of seven hours, then, the battle has 
been fought — the intelligence has been transmitted 60 miles 
• — thousands of hand-bills have been struck off, and are now 
selling in all quarters of the town. — This rage for prize- 
fighting is detestably prevalent ; and the merits of the differ- 
ent heroes of the ring compose the common topic of coffee- 
house discussion, the cant and slang of which ai-e intolera- 
ble. But the magistrates are beginning to interfere ; and 
there is, in many quarters, amevident disposition to break up 
the sport. It is a disgrace to the countr)^, and in point of 
vulgar brutality is not a Avhit better than the bull-fights of 
old Spain, or the bear-baiting of Queen Bess' days. A shov/ 
of gladiators, did the laws permit such an exhibition, would 
bring the rabble together by myriads. 

Thursday, June 10. — I sat out this morning in a drench- 
ing rain, to attend the anniversary of the charity children of 
the metropolis in St. Paul's. By a happy slip of memory, I 
lefl my ticket at home ; and without it, there was no admis- 
sion. In London, the consideration of distance is sometimes 
rather formidable, particularly when the pavement is smoking 
with a copious shower. However, I accomplished my six 
miles, and arrived, if not in very elegant plight, at least in 
season for the exhibition. Entering the cathedral at the 
western door, and ascending the stairs which led to a tempo- 
rary platform sloping towards the east, a most imposing spec- 
tacle presented itself. Between the point where I stood and 
the choir, a distance of 300 feet, the nave v/as filled with a 
dense mass of spectators, amounting to at least five or six 
thousand. The children, said to be about six thousand in 
number, were ranged on benches disposed in an octagonal 
form under the great dome, of which I counted sixteen or 
eighteen rows rising like stairs one above another. They 
were all dressed in the uniform of the several schools, and 
were disposed as methodically as the companies of a regi- 
ment. All were decorated with badges ; and as the children 
of each school took possession of the seats allotted to them, 
the head boy fixed their standard, blazoned with some appro- 
priate device, on the highest seat occupied by the class. I 



ANNIVERSARY AT ST. PAUL'S. 269 

am told that in the different charity schools, the costume 
adopted on their first institution has been retained ever since ; 
and as some of them are a century or two old, the tight 
breeches of a span long, and the full-skirted, coUarless coats, 
which are to be seen in Hogarth's engravings, or the early 
embellished editions of Pope and Addison, are still worn by 
the children of the parochial schools. The girls were gen- 
erally dressed in white, and made a neat appearance in their 
simple costume, and close cambrick caps ; although it is dif- 
ficult to conceive why this latter unnecessary part of their 
dress is retained, unless through a cherished veneration for 
ancient usages. Besides the regular cathedral service, per- 
formed by the ordinary choir, the children joined in the cho- 
ral parts of the Coi'onation Anthem and the Grand Hallelu- 
jah Chorus, and in Old Hundred. The effect was not very 
musical ; but the utterance of so many thousand infant voices 
together on such an occasion, under the mighty dome of St, 
Paul's, was impressive to say the least. It excited emotions 
of a higher character than the stirrings of mere musical sen- 
sibility. The organ, large and powerful as it is, was scarcely 
audible amidst the echoing of human voices. A temporary 
pulpit was placed in the centre beneath the dome, in which 
the Bishop of Exeter preached, I suppose ; for not a rumour 
of a sound was v/afted to the place where I stood. The spec 
tacle was altogether a most imposing one : the numbers pre- 
sent could not have been less than 10,000 ; and yet the 
cathedral appeared capable of containing as many more. 

On the following Sunday, I attended service in St. Martin's- 
in-the-fields, where a numerous congregation was assem- 
bled. It being Trinity Sunday, wg had an appropriate and 
well-digested discourse on the Trinity. In the afternoon of 
the same day, I strayed into a chapel in South Audley Street. 
This being in the fashionable part of the town, is fitted up in 
a neat manner, with lined pews, and a superior style of ac- 
commodations. I could not learn the preacher's name, but 
was much struck with the piety and earnestness of his per- 
formances. His reading was admirable : he entered into the 
spirit and meaning of the scriptures, and therefore read them 
23* 



370 JOURNAL. 

eloquently. His style of preaching too, was animated, prac- 
tical, and sincere ; and although no remarkable degree of 
talent was evinced in his discourse, it was impressive in no 
common degree, from the engagedness of the preacher. 
There are two kinds of animation in preaching ; one, where- 
in the preacher does not feel his subject, and therefore as- 
sumes the tones and gestures, and impassioned delivery of a 
man in earnest. The other is when he does feel it — when 
he is really in earnest — when he is enforcing some truth 
which has deeply occupied his meditations ; and then he be- 
comes truly eloquent, notwithstanding perhaps a bad voice 
and an ungraceful delivery. The eloquence of the former is 
studied, artificial, often pompous ; and fails coldly on the ear. 
That of the latter is plain, direct, natural and sincere ; and 
therefore descends into the heart. The hearers fix their eyes 
immoveably on the speaker — they follow him through all his 
illustrations — they weigh his arguments — they attend him to 
the conclusion — they forget the preacher in the subject ; and 
no part of the discourse escapes their notice. It is only men 
of this stamp, who are, or can be, truly eloquent in the pul- 
pit. It is not enough for them to know that they are uttering 
truth ; they must feel that it is important truth ; and the im- 
pression must be strong upon them at the moment of deliv- 
ery, or " their words will return unto them void." 

Tliursday, June 17th. — Ballooning is now all the rage in 
the metropolis. Harris' misfortune in breaking his neck, and 
" the sudden fall of the Stocks,"* as the papers have the 
pun, seem to have inspired a wonderful ardor in the aero- 
nauts to emulate the exploits of these unlucky adventurers. 
Three or four have ascended from the environs of London 
and the neighbouring places, within a few weeks ; and others 



* The name of the young lady who ascended with Harris a few 
weeks ago, and descended with much greater alacrity. She was taken 
up insensible, lying across the dead body of Harris, who was killed on 
the spot. By her account of the matter, they lost their presence of 
mind, and by mistake opened the great valve, when the balloon de- 
scended with great violence, and produced the above mentioned ca- 
tastrophe. 



Ballooning. - 271 

are advertised. In short, all the inhabitants are likely to turn 
Phaetons, if they can manufacture gas enough to overcome 
the natural gravitation between solid roast beef, and this ma- 
terial mundane sphere. And doubtless it would be a most 
delightsome recreation to get away occasionally from this 
dirty world, and soar above the clouds, if the mode of return 
could be always equally agreeable. — Happening to see in the 
papers that Graham was to make a trip to-day to the moon, 
from Pentonville, I contrived to be in that quarter of the me- 
tropolis at the hour of starting, which was three in the after- 
noon. The mobile were fast gathering, and even patrician 
carriages were pullkig up in long array in Chapel-street, front- 
ing the White Conduit House. — Around me was a motley 
group of countiymen, butchers, bakers, bricklayers, coalmen, 
cobblers, tinkers, gypsies, and I know not what, whom the 
spectacle had drawn together — this being one of those mat- 
ters which cannot be transacted behind a curtain. A three- 
shilling ticket was however necessary for getting admission 
into the garden, to witness the process of filling, and the lib- 
eration of the bubble. I got a very good stand a few rods 
from the scene of action, where I could avail myself ot an 
iron railing to peep over heads, and observe the movements 
in the camp. While expectation was on tip-toe, a delecta- 
ble concert arose in my neighbourhood, of hawkers of cakes 
and small beer, blind fiddlers, music-grinders, showmen, 
and squalling brats, scoldmg drabs, and swearing coachmen. 
The tops of the houses were manned and womaned for many 
a square ; and from my elevation on the fence, nothing 
was visible down Penton Street into the New Road, on one 
side, and into the fields and brick-yards, where the canaille 
had posted themselves, on the other, but a dense mass of 
horses, and carriages, and waggons, and carts, all converted 
into posts of observation, mingled with thousands of pedes- 
trians of both sexes. " No man could say this is my wife ;" 
and in truth, they were generally of a description not to be 
hastily claimed. The hour of three passed, and the hour of 
four came, and no appearance of the balloon. Between five 
and six, a loud hurrah announced that it was nearly filled, 



272 JOURNAL 

and the top of it was visible, swaying hither and thither irt 
the wind, in shape and colour not unlike a mammoth pump- 
kin. It was of alternate stripes of white and yellow silk, 
disposed like the ribs or ridges of that very desirable fruit. 
At last, it seemed to be fully expanded, and strained and 
tugged vehemently for liberation. A gun was now fired, and 
a pilot sent up to ascertain the currents. It shot off oblique- 
ly before a strong northerly wind, and was quickly out of 
sight. Another shout from the gardens announced that the 
important moment had arrived. The rope was cut, and the 
machine began to rise. Owing to the strong wind, the as- 
cent was very oblique — a block of houses concealed it for a 
moment ; but when it emerged, it was just clearing the 
chimneys, and moving with a steady and even majestic mo- 
tion. Two men stood up in the car, waving their hats and 
flags, and were answered by the cheers of the spectators. 
The balloon took a direction to the southward, immediately 
over the city. For the first eight minutes, the line of motion 
was nearly direct, so that the machine appeared to the eye 
to stand still. The discharge of ballast then caused it to rise 
rapidly ; and passing for a moment behind a few shreds of 
light, fleecy, semi-transparent clouds, it emerged again into 
the bright rays of the sun. Its size appeared now greatly 
diminished — the car was no longer visible ; and as the sun 
shone full on the glittering bauble, it was an object quite 
worth looking at, especially when it was considered that it 
bore two human beings, voyagers thi'ough the trackless air. 
It was distinctly visible for five or six minutes more, when 
a heavy cloud came driving down from the north, and con- 
cealed it finally from the view, about fifteen minutes after it 
had left its moorings. 

Mr. Graham and his companion, Capt. Beaufoy, returned 
to town last evening, and report as follows : — that in five min- 
utes, they entirely lost sight of the earth — a circumstance 
much to be admired, as the balloon was plainly seen for a 
quarter of an hour. — Mr. G. got into a cloud which was par- 
ticularly " dense and gloomy." — This may be ; but it appear- 
ed to a mundane spectator particularly fleecy and transparent ; 



REV. C. BENSON. 273 

and in evidence that it really was so, it did not hide the bal- 
loon for a moment, " The machine now ascended rapidly, 
and I felt warmer." — 'This was when he was traversing the 
belt of fine blue sky, during the last few minutes that he 
was visible, and the sun was shining full upon him. There 
was a cloud beneath him, it is certain ; but had he turned his 
eyes towards Pentonville, he might have seen his starting 
place plainly enough. — He describes the clouds which rolled 
below as " looking like huge mountains of dirty ice," and 
estimates his greatest elevation at two and a half miles. At 
length he opened the valve, and began to descend ; and 
throwing out his grapplings, he brought up in a field near 
Tunbridge, thirty-three miles from London, having been one 
hour and three minutes in the air. 

The first aerial voyage ever made since the exploit of Dse- 
dalus, was in 1783 ; and it is remarkable that the one of 
longest continuance — that of Mr. Testu — was only three 
years later. He was twelve hours in the air, from four in 
the afternoon till four in the morning, including two descents, 
at each of which he stayed only a few minutes. Since that 
time, ballooning seems to have retrograded ; and aeronauts 
now appear to think that they have done a memorable ex- 
ploit, when they have floated about for an hour or two in the 
air. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



REV. CHRISTOPHER BENSON ST. PAUL'S, COVENT GARDEN REV. H. H. 

MILMAN — HOUSE OF COMMONS MR. HUME MR. HOBHOUSE — LORD 

EASTNOR — SIR F. BURDETT — SIR J. NEWPORT MR. C. HUTCHINSON 

ANNIVERSARY OF THE ANTI-SLAVERY SOCIETY — MR. STEPHEN — T. MAC- 
AULY, ESQ. — DR. LUSHINGTON MR. WILBERFORCE DUKE OF GLOU- 
CESTER REMARKS ON THE ABOLITIONISTS. 

Sunday, June 20. — Among the preachers now in London, 
none is more likely to establish a lasting reputation than the 



274 



JOURNAL. 



Rev, Christopher Benson, of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
He has lately left the University to take possession of his liv- 
ing of St. Giles', where he is every clay becoming more and 
more an object of attraction, by the unaffected eloquence of 
his pulpit exercises. He preached this morning at St. Paul's, 
Covent Garden, in behalf of the National School ; and if my 
expectations had been highly raised by the commendations I 
had heard bestowed upon him at Cambridge, where he was 
greatly admired as well as loved, they were not disappointed 
when I came to hear him. His discourse, on St. Paul's in- 
struction to parents to bring up their children in the nurture 
and admonition of the Lord, was partly intended to expose 
the mischiefs of ignorance, and of the want of religious in- 
struction in particular, in the dense population of the me- . 
tropolis. He certainly must be ranked in the highest order 
of preachers, — serious, earnest, pathetic. Here is no study 
of stage effect — here are no practised attitudes — no scarce- 
ly audible whispers — no affected tremulousness of tones, or 
flourishing gesticulations, to give a set off to ordinary 
thoughts, expressed in common language ; these are the 
tricks of second-rate orators ; but Mr. Benson is above them. 
His great recommendations are, thorough, heart-felt serious- 
ness — a complete forgetting of himself in the magnitude of 
his subject — a power of clothing striking thoughts in the hap- 
piest language, and illustrating them by just, and often ori- 
ginal images ; and finally a voice so affectingly plaintive and 
musical, that it takes the ear captive, before you have time 
to become interested in the matter of the discourse. There 
is an earnestness, too, in his manner, which prevents you 
from observing that his delivery is not remarkably graceful, 
although it is by no means strikingly deficient in this quality. 
I do not remember to have heard a more happy close to a 
sermon. Two or three sentences, uttered in subdued and 
almost melancholy accents, brought the feelings of the audi- 
ence to the very point at which the preacher had aimed, and 
the tears sprung unbidden into almost every eye. Heaven 
grant to this accomplished christian orator a longer season 
of usefulness, than his apparently slender constitution seems 



ST. PAUL'S, COVENT GARDEN. 275 

to promise. His age may be about thirty-five. In person 
he is rather tall and spare ; and his complexion, naturally 
dark, is bilious and sallow, from apparent ill health. 

St. Paul's is a plain, heavy church, of Doric architecture, 
built of Portland stone, after designs by Inigo Jones. It was 
burnt about thirty years since ; at least, the interior of it ; 
but has been restored on the original plan. The ceiling is 
flat, and not very lofty ; and as the organ is more powerful 
than sweet, its tones were sometimes painfully loud. The 
organist might have reduced the length of his dull volunta- 
ries, without the least disadvantage. A comparison of Eng- 
lish organs with those of American manufacture, would prob- 
ably result in the conviction, that among the smaller instru- 
ments, there was no material difference in the quality of the 
tone. Of the larger and more complicated ones, the Eng- 
lish are unquestionably preferable to ours. 

In the afternoon, I walked in the rain to Percy Chapel, 
where I found a very thin congregation — heard the service 
badly read, and an indifferent sermon badly delivered. 

The next day, I had the pleasure of an interview with the 
poet Milman. There is nothing in his personal appearance 
to arrest attention at first. His stature is above the middling 
size, and well-proportioned ; his complexion dark ; his face of 
an oval shape, and expressive of the qualities of mildness and 
benevolence. His eye discovers nothing of the " fine fren- 
zy" of the poet, but rather thoughtfulness and quiet attention. 
On my alluding to his works, and the extensive popularity they 
enjoyed in America, he seemed to evade the subject, although 
he was not aware of their having been re-published in that 
country ; and- led the conversation to something else. H^ 
has lately taken possession of his living at Reading, and ap- 
pears to be devoted to the duties of the sacred profession. 
His manners, so far as I had an opportunity of observing 
them, are modest and retiring ; and betray none of the self- 
complacency of the successful poet. 

Thursday, June 24th. — It having been reported that Sir 
Francis Burdett would bring forward a motion this evening, 
in relation to the state of slaverj^ in the islands, I went to the 



276 JOURNAL. 

house about four, and got a comfortable seat in the gallery, 
Hume had possession of the floor, and was followed by 
Brougham and Grattan, in short speeches. Who has not 
heard of that most tiresome of all blunderers, the persevering, 
but always baffled, and never disconcerted Radical, Hume 1 
He is a hard-pated, ponderous looking man, with a coarse, 
unintellectual face and bull neck ; and speaks on in one un- 
varied, eternal, monotonous strain, whether the house will 
hear him or not. — Grattan is a son of the late eminent mem- 
ber of that name. I had just got composed in my seat, and 
was ready to give ear to the wisdom about to be uttered, 
when a division of some question was called for, and stran- 
gers were ordered to withdraw. The galleries were about 
half cleared, when the matter was decided without dividing the 
house. In the reflux of the tide, I was fortunate enough to 
be carried back so near the front, as to enable me to hear 
and see to advantage. Order being restored, 

Mk. Hobhouse brought up a petition relative to the prison 
discipline in Horsemonger lane, a, little famous just at this 
moment, as the residence of Mr. O'Callaghan, who has been 
shut up in durance vile for assaulting a clergyman. Hobhouse 
is known as the companion and intimate friend of Lord Byron. 
He is a very common sort of a speaker — his language and 
ideas are all of the common stamp ; and his disci'etion appa- 
rently none of the best. He spoke nearly half an hour, and 
reflected severely on the Surry magistrates, before whom the 
trial of O'Callaghan was held. He was followed by Deni- 
son, Maberly, Peel, Grattan, Sir Robert Wilson, Lord East- 
nor, and Sir F, Burdett, in speeches of various length. Sir 
>jlobert Wilson is rather slender, and of a swarthy complexion ; 
there is nothing in his personal appearance to indicate the 
chivalrous spirit he is known to possess. He speaks with 
animation, and now and then with much point and force. 

LoKU Eastnor, a son of the Earl of Somers, is a diffident, 
and apparently amiable man. He rose, because he had been 
very pointedly alluded to by Mr Hobhouse, as chairman pro 
tempore on the commitment of O'Callaghan ; and in a few 
words, explained and justified their proceedings. 



ANT(-SLAVERY SOCIETY. 277 

Sir Francis Burdett was on his feet very frequently in 
the course of the debates. His figure is on the whole rather 
singular, — tall, slender, and erect ; with a head quite protu- 
berant and square at the top of the forehead. His features are 
sharp and diminutive. In addressing the house, he seems to 
be embarrassed at first, turning from side to side, and sawing 
the air with measured strokes ; but this awkwardness of man- 
ner soon wears off. He is not an eloquent speaker — he has 
a drawling, hesitating manner, as if at a loss for words or 
ideas ; or having too many, was perplexed in the choice. 
The former appeared to be the case. 

Mr. Abercrombie rose, with a very modest petition from 
this same O'Callaghan, for the amendment of the prison 
laws, he having found them vastly inconvenient in his par- 
ticular instance. 

Sir John Newport, a little, spare, aged man, spoke once 
or twice with more fire and intellectual vigour than his age 
and personal appearance promised ; indeed, he was one of 
the best speakers I heard this evening. Sir James Macin- 
tosh was also once on the floor, and spoke for a few minutes. 
Neither his broad Scotch accent, nor ungraceful delivery, 
can prevent one froni listening with pleasure to his fluent, 
well chosen language, and chastened eloquence. 

The order for the day was at last called for ; but Mr. C. 
Hutchinson rose to call for evidence on the state of Ire- 
land to be laid before the house ; and made a long and intol- 
erably dry speech, which nearly emptied the benches. 
He was replied to by Lord Palmerston and Mr. Goulburn from 
the treasury bench, both rather agreeable speakers. We 
had again to quit the gallery when they came to divide on 
the motion of Mr. H— A quorum was wanting, and the 
house adjourned a little before eight. 

Friday, June 25th.— To day has been held the first annual 
meetmg of the Anti-Slavery Society, in Freemason's Hall. 
The politeness of one of my friends had supplied me with a 
ticket for the platform, which overlooks the assembly. The 
Hall was filled by twelve, and I could perceive a large num. 
ber of broad brims, and ash-coloured bonnets, intermingled 



278 JOURNAL. 

with the audience, and indeed, composing a considerable 
part of it. Some fair hands were busy in scraping pens, 
cutting pencils, and arranging their apparatus for taking 
notes. A few minutes past twelve, the duke of Gloucester 
entered amidst loud cheering, followed by Mr. Wilberforce, 
Lord Calthorpe, Mr. Stephens, Mr. Smith, and other distin- 
guished champions of emancipation. The Duke bowed all- 
the way to the chair, and with much grace. He is a portly 
person, with a fair complexion, a nose like that which the 
engravings give to George II., and the prominent eyes which 
are characteristick of the royal family. His countenance is 
more indicative of good nature than of strong intelligence. 
While the Report was reading, our eccentric countryman 

J R of Virginia entered, and took his seat on the 

platform. I expected nothing less than a speech from him, 
but was disappointed, as he left the hall after sitting for ah 
hour or two. 

The Report, which was long and ably drawn up, was read 
by young Wilberforce, in a very handsome manner ; after 
which, various motions were offered, supported by speeches 
from different members. The following were among the 
persons who took a part in the debate : 

Hon. Agar Ellis — a slender, pale man, who made a 
short and sufficiently sensible speech. It was evident, how- 
ever, from his embarrassed manner, that he was but little 
accustomed to speaking in publick. 

Me. Stephen. This is one of those veterans, who, with 
Mr. Wilberforce, distinguished themselves so nobly in the 
war of the abolition. Since that event, he has continued to 
give his attention to the subject of West-Indian slavery ; and 
has lately published a large volume, designed to facihtate the 
labours of the abolitionists, by arraying the publick feeling 
of the island against the institution of slavery. He is tall 
and erect with a look of great animation and vivacity, and 
a keen flashing eye. In some passages of his address, he 
spoke with a degree of vehemence and feeling not often 
witnessed. While commenting on the infamous trial of Smith 
the missionary, by a court-martial, his feelings quite got the 



DR. LUSHINGTON. 



279 



mastery over him. He adverted to " the non-admission of 
the evidence of slaves in a court of justice, where the life or 
property of a white person was at stake : but we have seen, 
said he, that it is sufficient to swear away the life of a 
christian missionary, and that, too, when given under the 
influence of the fear of death." 

Hon. Baptiste Noel. — Bad taste seems to be the beset- 
ting sin of this young speaker. — " If a West Indian planter 
had heard this moment of an act of parliament, directing the 
immediate emancipation of all the slaves in the islands, he 
could not have been more thunderstruck than he was him- 
self, at being called upon to support the motion before the 
meeting." However, after this rhetorical flourish, he went 
on in better style, and made some very sensible observations 
before he sat down. He is very fluent, but uses too many 
words ; and appears not to possess the art of arranging his 
thoughts according to any method. 

Thomas Macaulay — a son of Z. Macaulay, Esq. one of 
the most indefatigable promoters of the cause of the aboli- 
tion. This young and most promising speaker was graduated 
a few years since at Cambridge, where he was esteemed the 
most eloquent orator in the University. He is now preparing 
for the bar, with an intenseness of application, which, aided 
by his superior talents, will hereafter render him a conspicu- 
ous actor on the public stage, if his life is spared. His 
speech to-day was his first essay before a London audience ; 
and he acquitted himself admirably. He was sometimes 
vehement, sometimes pathetic, and in two or three passages, 
bitterly ironical. His speech was long and loudly applauded. 

Lord Calthorpe followed ; but he has been so often in- 
troduced in these pages, that the reader must already be well 
acquainted with him. 

Taylor Money, Esa. delivered a short and sensible ad- 
dress, which however contained nothing worthy of particular 
notice. 

Dr. Lushington, a member of parliament, and one of 
the champions of the late Queen on her trial, next occupied 
the floor. He is of the middling size, rather slender in per- 



^®® JOURNAL, 

son, with a pensive and almost melancholy expression of 
countenance. The tones of his voice, too, are solemn, me- 
lodious and pathetic. Alluding to the proceedings of the 
government of Demerara, in the case of Smith the missiona- 
ry, who, it will be recollected, was cruelly imprisoned, and 
expired in a dungeon, though one of the most blameless of 
men ; he said, — " I never heard before, that in a country 
under the sway of British justice, a desolate widow was de- 
nied the mournful privilege of following the remains of her 
husband to the grave. I never heard before, of an order 
from an executive government, to prostrate the humble me- 
morial, which the hand of widowed affection had raised over 
the last sanctuary of the dead. I did not know, that British 
law permitted the spirit of vengeance and immortal hate to 
persecute its defenceless and broken-hearted victims to such 
an extremity as this. The tale of such transactions sounds 
strangely in British ears." — These, and similar observations 
uttered in the pecuHar, deep, and melancholy accents of the 
speaker, wrought powerfully on the sympathies of the audi- 
ence, and affected most of them to tears. The powers of 
Dr. L. as an orator are certainly of no common stamp. 

William Smith, Esq., a member of parliament, is an- 
other veteran in the warfare of abolition. His voice is deep 
and powerful, and he manages it with good effect. As a 
speaker, he showed considerable talent. 

Mr. Wilberforce rose next, but it was a minute or two 
before the cheering subsided sufficiently to allow his voice to 
be heard. He began with congratulating his young friends 
on their early enlistment in the cause of humanit)' ; and paid 
a deserved comphment to his compeers, who had stood by 
him in the long and doubtful struggle to procure the abolition 
of the slave-trade — the deliverance of those who were deso- 
late and oppressed. His manner has as little of art or study 
as can be imagined — it is rather nervous and agitated^ — his 
gestures are quick and angular ; and in his more animated 
and triumphant moments, he flourishes his arms aloft, erecting 
his head from its usually drooping posture. Every thing he 
uttered had the appearance of coming warm from the heart. 



NEGRO EMANCIPATION. 281 

which seems to be the very throne of kind affections — the 
sanctuary of the afflicted. It is said that age and infirmities 
have, in some degree, impaired his intellectual vigour ; but of 
this, no traces were perceptible on the present occasion. It 
is rare to find so much enthusiasm in a man of his years — 
he having accomplished his three score and ten. 

Mr. William Allen, a respectable looking Quaker, made 
a short address in the tones of " the meeting," seconding 
Mr. W.'s motion of thanks to his Royal Highness — a motion, 
which was carried by all rising with loud cheers. The 
chairman acknowledged the honour in the usual terms, and 
made an address, with some good things in it indifferently 
expressed. The tones of his voice are musical and pleasant 
to the ear ; but his articulation is rather indistinct. He left 
the chair amidst the cheers of the assembly, which immedi- 
ately broke up, between four and five in the afternoon* 

The friends of negro emancipation are now organized 
throughout the country, and communicate with each other 
through the medium of the parent society in London. — 
Their professed object is^ to influence iparUament, through 
public opinion, to adopt decisive measures in relation to 
slavery in the islands. The members of the various asso- 
ciations are already honoured with the nick-name of " Saints,"' 
and a variety of other contemptuous appellations, by the 
West-Indian party : but they have been long accustomed 
to abuse, and are not the kind of men to be arrested in their 
march of benevolence by such small artillery. Yet it is 
to be regretted that they do not proceed more in a spirit of 
conciliation. There was nothing of this in the speeches- 1 
heard ; but much to irritate and inflame the feelings of those 
interested in West-India property. Their excuse for this is, 
that conciliatory measures have been long tried, and been re- 
paid only with insult and defiance ; and that it only remains 
to carry the point by open war. Commercial considerations 
are also mixed up with the question of emancipation, and not 
without effect. The high protecting duties laid on East-India 
sugars, to enable the West-India planters to bring theirs to an , 
English market, are not forgotten in the discussion — duties* 
34* 



282 JOURNAL. 

which subject the consumers to a tax of a million and a half 
Stirling annually, and which is represented as a premium 
taken from the pockets of the English, to encourage West- 
Indian slavery. The abolitionists disclaim any wish for im- 
mediate emancipation ; — they only contend, that measures 
should be immediately taken to procure a gradual, but certain 
abolition of slavery throughout the British dominions. The 
time for accomplishing this event is probably not many years 
distant. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



A HIGHLANDER — DINNER AT LORD C 'S CONVERSATION — ANECDOTE 

OF FOX DR. R. LONDON CRUELTY LOCK HOSPITAL DR. THORP 

RIDE TO BATH READING NEWBERRY MARLBOROUGH— BARROWS 

MELKSHAM BATH. 

Sunday, June 27th. — A Highlander, in full costume, is as 
much an object of attention in London, as he would be in 
New York. While passing along High Holborn this morning, 
I saw one of uncommon stature. He was considerably above 
six feet in height, well-proportioned, and muscular ; and had 
altogether the look of a most powerful man. From the mid- 
dle of his thigh to the calf of his leg was bare. He was 
pacing along the street towards the Caledonian chapel with 
a lady under each arm, between whom his assiduous and 
gallant attentions were divided. The Londoners who hap- 
pened to be going that way, paused a moment to look at him, 
as they would at any other strange sight. I entered St. An- 
drew's, and heard the service extremely well performed. 
The congregation was large, every part of the church being 
full ; and the sermon highly practical and pertinent, though 
not, in other respects, remarkable. I was less fortunate in 
the afternoon at Quebec chapel, where the congregation 
was far from being numerous, and the services were perform- 
ed in no very edifying manner. 



DINNER AT LORD C— 'S. 283 

The next day, I had the lionour of dining at the table of 
Lord C — — , in company with the two Macaulays, Dr. Lush- 
ington, Hon. F. Calthorpe and his lady, and a few others of 
distinction in the political or literary world. I happened to 
sit next to Dr. L. whom I found one of the most agreeable 
of men, and whose ardent character is tempered apparently 
by a very amiable disposition. One of the company ob- 
served, in the course of the conversation, " that he sat near 
Mr. Canning, while Sir James Macintosh was speaking in 
favour of the recognition of South American Independence ; 
and that Mr. Canning's features betrayed perfect mental 
agony — he could give it no other name. The minister felt 
that he was obliged to evade the subject, when his individ- 
ual wishes were in favour of the recognition. He was re- 
strained by the cautious policy of the cabinet, and felt embar- 
rassed how to reply to the arguments and enquiries of Sir 
James." — " What do you think was Mr. C.'s opinion in the 
affair of the missionary Smith ?" (This had lately been 
strongly agitated in parliament, where it produced great sen- 
sation, connected as it is with the subject of West-Indian sla- 
very.) " Oh ! as to that I cannot say : he probably would not 
form any private judgment — he was tied, hand and foot, by 
the majority in the cabinet." Dr. L. said, that in his view, 
" Mr. Canning and Mr. Brougham were, beyond all compari- 
son, the best speakers in the House of Commons. Mr. C. 
has improved astonishingly within the last ten or twelve years. 
In the early part of his political career, he was not at all re- 
markable." "You heard Fox and Pitt, and Sheridan, and 
Burke, in the days of their glory." " Yes, a hundred times." 
— " How does Mr. Canning compare with them as an orator?" 
— " O, he is fully equal to the best of them ; there has never 
been his superior in parliament, unless it was Lord Chatham, 

and probably not even he." Lord C observed, that 

" Brougham was the only speaker he ever heard, who took 
away his breath. This was the case when Mr. B. opened 
his defence of the Queen ; and the other day, when he ar- 
raigned, in such a terrible manner, the proceedings in Dem- 
erara." Speaking of Lord Holland, one of the company ob- 



284 JOURNAL. 

served,. " that he used to think him a caricature of Charles 
Fox. He strongly resembled him in his person, and his style 
of speaking was greatly similar." " But, surely, Fox did not 
, stammer and hesitate in his delivery, as Lord H. does 1" 
Dr. L. — " O yes, only a great deal worse. His thoughts 
came so thick and fast, that they actually choked him. Such 
a multitude of images and expressions arose in his mind at 
the same time, that he hesitated in the choice ; he boggled, 
and stammered, until utterance entirely failed, in some of 
his most animated flights ; and then he would often stop and 
whistle, till he could arrange his ideas." — Our dinner was of 
course elegantly served up ; and the evening passed away 
most agreeably, after the first formalities were over. I was 
a little mortified at having my Yankee origin detected, by 
my omitting to give the full sound of sh, in the word " pro- 
nunciation." 

Another agreeable evening was passed, not long after, at 
the house of Mr. Macaulay. I observed to Mrs. M. that we 
had great speculations in America as to the originals of Stan- 
ley and his family in Coelebs, but that Mr. Wilberforce had 
the credit of being the prototype of Sir. John. This, she 
said was incorrect ; the Stanley family were probably crea- 
tures of Mrs. More's own imagination. Some traits of char- 
acter were undoubtedly selected from those she observed 
among her friends ; but the composition was all her own. 

A gentleman present remarked, that when the late Dr. 

R of New- York was in this country, three or four years 

ago, he was invited to take a part at the anniversary of the 
Bible Society. The speeches on those occasions must neces- 
sarily be short — not over five or ten minutes ; as there are 
many speakers, and the reading of the report occupies at least 
an hour. Nevertheless, the Dr., nothing daunted, appeared 
resolved to make the most of the opportunity ; and afl;er a 
long exordium, proceeded to distribute the matter he had to 
offer under /owr heads, as he would have arranged the divi- 
sions of a Bible Society sermon. He was heard through the 
first division, which occupied a full half hour ; and was be- 
ginning to announce the sub-divisions under the second gene- 



LONfiON CRUELTY. 285 

I'al head, when the impatience of the audience, whom polite* 
ness towards a stranger had hitherto restrained, became most 
manifest. But the Doctor was resolute. Some coughed — 
others went out — and there was a general hum of disappro- 
bation ; still, the orator persisted in his labours to edify ; 
until, at length, a friend, who had been more attentive to the 
state of the audience than the Doctor's zeal had permitted 
him to be, whispered in his ear that it was time to stop. 
The whole address, including the peroration, improvement and 
concluding remarks, must have occupied nearly three hours 
in the delivery, at the rate he had begun ! I never, said our 
informant, observed such symptoms of impatience in that as- 
sembly. 

A person, whose heart is not entirely callous to the mise- 
ries of the brute creation, will do well not to be on the look- 
out for objects of his commiseration, while walking the streets 
of London. I have long avoided Smithfield, and the region 
round about, on market days. Whoever has been accustom- 
ed to associate with that harmless animal, the sheep, only 
ideas of rural peace and gentleness, and has any bowels of 
compassion, will turn into another street, when he meets a 
flock ofthem going towards that " valley ofTophet" — Smith- 
field. The fiendish brutality of their drivers, in worrying 
them with dogs — striking them in the head and legs with 
their hard, polished sticks, in a manner to give the acutest 
pain without endangering their lives — the splashing and roll- 
ing of the poor animals through the mud and under the wheels 
—their tongues hanging out of their mouths with exhaustion, 
and the blood often streaming from their heads, or their legs 
drawn up in agony, from the blows they have received — all 
these are enough to make one's heart bleed for their misera- 
ble lot. Hogs and cattle, too, are treated with the same bru, 
tality ; and before they reach the field of slaaghter, their 
hides are completely lacerated by the whips of their infernal 
drivers. But the manner in which calves are carried to mar- 
ket is perhaps the most revolting to a humane mind. Their 
legs are all brought together, and bound so tightly with cords 
as to stop the circulation. In this state, they are piled into 



28^ ^OURNAt. 

a cart, like a load of butchered hogs, and transported twenty 
or thirty miles, — their Jieads beijig suffered to hang out of 
the cart at each end, and to beat against the frame at every 
jolt of the vehicle. In this state of torture, I have often met 
them on the road, with their eyes rolled up in the agonies of 
death. Many actually expire on the way, and may be seen 
strewed about the pavement of Smithfield on market days, 
where they are sold to the manufacturers of veal pies and 
sausages I Let a person whose nerves are strong enough to 
endure the sight of brute misery in all its varieties and de- 
grees, give a few days' attendance at the markets for live 
^tock ; and he will look upon the whole tribe of butchers, 
drivers, carriers, &;c, as no better than a hardened, relentless, 
unfeeling race of fiends, in human shape. I am convinced 
that the lowest classes of the English are either by nature or 
custom, cruel ; nor have I formed this judgment hastily, or 
from a few examples. I pretend not to account for the fact ; 
nor to say, how far they are indebted for this disposition to 
their boxing-matches — for every John Bull is a bruiser from 
his youth upwards — or to the frequency of their capital pun- 
ishments, or to their bloody roast beef and porter. I only 
speak of the fact, as the impression has been made on my 
mind. 

Sunday, July 4th. — To most of the charitable institutions 
in London, a chapel is attached for the use of the inmates, and 
and for the accommodation of citizens and strangers, whom 
•curiosity or benevolent motives may attract to the place. It 
is generally the policy of the managers to select some popular 
preacher for the situation, as a means of bringing the institu- 
tion into more general notice, as well as to swell the contribu- 
tions which are made at the door. A part of the income is 
derived from this source ; and many individuals attend fre- 
quently at these chapels, for the double purpose of being grat- 
ified by hearing some of the best preachers in the metropo- 
lis, and of throwing their contributions Into the box. The 
morning preacher at the Lock Hospital, in the western sub- 
urbs of London, is at present Dr. Thorp, who is equally dis- 
tinguished for talent and ministerial faithfulness. I went this 



DR. THORf. 287 

Wiorning to the chapel, and had the pleasure of hearing him. 
A better preacher I have not heard in England. His mind 
is of a very superior order, vigorous, profound, and deeply 
versed in spiritual lore. Like the sermons of Barrow, John 
Scott, and other divines of the same class, his discourse w^as 
rich in theological matter, while it was far more 'attrac- 
tive in the quality of style. Every thing in it displayed vig- 
orous thought, method, fertility of invention, and an experi- 
mental as well as theoretical acquaintance with the truths of 
revelation, which he enforced with a plainness and closeness 
altogether uncommon. His thoughts were so admirably ar- 
ranged, that every thing appeared in its proper place ; and, 
contrary to the practice of third-rate preachers, he used lan- 
guage simply as the vehicle of ideas, and because he could 
not do without it. His sermon was wholly extempore ; nor 
did he even make use of short notes to assist his recollec- 
tion. It was free from the usual faults of extemporaneous 
discourses, viz. prosing and repetition ; although he was an 
hour in delivering it, and his enuciation was generally rap- 
id. It was on the Psalm, beginning, — " I waited patiently 
for the Lord," &c. There is a slight impediment in his 
speech nearly amounting to a lisp ; but this does not hinder 
his delivery from being animated and impressive. The au- 
dience was numerous, and paid him the most profound atten- 
tion. The service was read by a young man, in a veiy sol- 
emn manner. The chapel is a neatly finished place of wor- 
ship, sufficiently capacious to accommodate a thousand per- 
sons ; and has a sweet, but not very powerful organ. 

Monday evening. — Bath. — I have just arrived in the far- 
famed city of 

Good king Bladud's healing waters — 

after a pleasant ride of thirteen hours. I mounted a coach in 
Piccadilly early in the morning, with a young Templar for 
my companion, who carried Blackstone and a volume on Con- 
veyances in his lap, to beguile the tediousness of the way. 
Our road lay over Hounslow heath, an extensive plain now al- 
niost entirely taken up by enclosures ; and we had a fair 



288 JOURNAL. 

view of Windsor Forest and Castle on the left, as well as of 
the light towers and spires of Eton. The Thames at Maid- 
enhead, where we crossed it, is very beautiful — still, placid, 
and verdant. Caversham Park, now under the hammer, is a 
most splendid seat about half a mile from the road, on an 
eminence, the ground in the vicinity of which is beautifully 
varied with hill and dale. The present proprietor is a Colo- 
nel Marseck, who has been at a great expense in augmenting 
the original building and beautifying the grounds. The Co- 
lonel, it seems, has grown tired of his play -thing, or has ex- 
hausted his finances on improvements. The colonnades 
make a fine appearance from the road, which winds along a 
few miles farther to Reading, a large and populous town. 
Before entering it, we crossed the Lodden, a small but pleas- 
ant stream, on whose bank, and quite in the borders of the 
town, are the ruins of Reading castle, many arches of which 
are still standing. Reading is a very neat town. It was the 
scene of warlike operations in the struggle between Charles 
I. and the forces of the parliament. It presents a mixture of 
old and new buildings, some of the latter very handsome ; and 
may contain a population of 12,000. Newberry, a little far- 
ther on, was also the scene of a battle between the same par- 
ties. It is an old-fashioned village with very narrow streets, 
and built quite in an antique style. A handsome cross stands 
in the market-place, erected by Lord Sidmouth, in testimony, 
as the inscription bears, of his Lordship's gratitude to the in- 
habitants for six elections to parliament, and for his being 
thirty years honoured by the office of Recorder. On an- 
other side of the monument is engraved the story of poor 
Ruth Pierce's fate. She was a market-woman ; and being 
charged with embezzling some of the profits of a sale in 
which she was a partner, she denied it, and " wished that 
God might strike her dead, if what she said was false." The 
appeal was answered as instantaneously as it was fatally — 
she dropped down and expired, and the money was found 
clenched in her hand. It is unnecessary to suppose a mira- 
cle in the case, as the effect might have been produced by 
the power of conscience alone. Hungerford and Marlbo- 



SHEPHERDS. 



289 



rough occured next, the latter in a deep and beautiful valley. 
Here we stopped to dinner at the " Castle Inn," which was 
once a seat of the Duke of Somerset. It still has more the 
air of a nobleman's residence than of an Inn, and the rear 
opens into grounds tastefully laid out, with gravelled walks 
and abundance of trees. Yet we paid rather dearly for the 
distinguished honour of dining in a hall, once graced by 
the presence of royal blood, as we were charged something 
less than a dollar for our slice of roast beef. The town may 
contain a population of three or four thousand. Before en- 
tering it, however, we passed through Saversnake forest, now 
more like a heath than a forest, as only a few stunted trees 
are left. The deer were straying about in abundance, and 
as tame as domestic cattle. " The White Horse" is too 
conspicuous an object to escape the notice of the passen- 
ger. It is nothing more nor less than the figure of a horse, 
formed on the side of a steep hill rising opposite to the road, 
by cutting off the turf, and exposing the chalky surface be- 
neath. There is also, close to the road, in this neighbour- 
hood, a remarkable barrow, situated in a valley, and suppo- 
sed to be of Druidical orgin. Fame reports it to be a mile in 
circumference, and to cover an area of six acres. Whether 
this is the just relation between an area and the length of its 
perimeter, I have not now the means of ascertaining ; but I 
should judge half of the above dimensions to be nearer the 
truth. Its height may be between 120 and 150 feet, and in 
shape it resembles a haycock. Whatever may have been 
the purpose for which it was cast up, one cannot but admire 
the industry and perseverance which must have been bestow, 
ed on such a monument ; for its perfect regularity demon- 
strates it to be artificial. I am told that there are others in 
the neighbourhood, only smaller in size. On the downs in 
this region, thousands of sheep were feeding, attended by the 
shepherds and their dogs ; but the sight inspires any thing but 
poetical ideas. Here are few purling streams, and grassy 
glades, and sylvan arbours and shady banks, inviting the en- 
amoured Corydon to sigh to the passing breeze the cruelty, 
of his nut-brown Phyllis. The swain is usually a tough, 



290 JOURNAL. 

weather-beaten old shepherd, very raggedly attired, with pov- 
erty written on his brow ; and the scene a wide waste of 
bleak downs, presenting to the eye a most cheerless pros- 
pect of barren knolls, and patches of naked clay. So much 
for the poetry of pastoral life. The next place was Melk- 
sham, a small hamlet situated on the margin of a stream. 
Melksham has lately become a place of some note, by the 
discovery of two springs strongly saline. The hotels and 
pump-room present a handsome appearance from the road. 
Kingsdown hill is a steep descent, by which we pitched, with 
locked wheels, into a very beautiful winding valley, along 
which the road leads to Bath four miles distant. The dis- 
tance from London is 107 miles. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



BATH SPRINGS PUMP-ROOM HUNTINGTON CHAPEL BEECHEN CLIFF 

VIEW OF BATH AND ENVIRONS LEGENDARY HISTORY BEAU NASH 

SaUABBLES IN HIGH LIFE VIEW FROM PROSPECT POINT BATH ABBEY 

WESLEYAN CHAPEL CHRIST CHURCH WALK TO CLAVERTON 

DOWNS aUARRIES — ARCHITECTURE OF BATH. 

Tuesday evening, July 6. — I have delivered, my letters- 
rambled over the greater part of the city — clambered up 
Beacon hill — drunk water at the pump room, and established 
myself in very comfortable lodgings at a moderate expense. 
1 ought to live pleasantly seeing I have taken up my quarters 
in " The Vineyards." Not that I am scribbling in an arbour 
of vines, with the thick and ruddy clusters hanging tempting- 
ly around — very far from it. The garden, a strip of ground 
about seventeen feet broad, runs up the hill at an angle of 
about thirty degrees, till it butts against a wall thirty feet high. 
In front, is a broad, paved terrace, raised fifteen or twenty 
feet above the street ; and my window looks out on the 
" Paragon Buildings," which scarcely answer to the magnifi- 



BATH. 



291 



cence of the name. The atmosphere seems to be half water 
at least, and drizzles, and spatters, and pours alternately ; 
3^et nobody appears to mind it. 

! Bath is at present a deserted place, this not being the 
season for visiters. A few of the maimed, the haU, and the 
blind, lounging about the pump room ; and here and there a 
gouty alderman trundled along the pavement in his Bath 
chair — a very comfortable piece of furniture mounted on 
three wheels, and either drawn or pushed by a servant — are 
the only signs which indicate a vicinity to the medicated 
waters. \ The time for the fashionables to make their appear- 
ence here is late in the autumn, when folly, and vice, and 
dissipation reign with undisputed sway. 

The Bath waters are not very nauseous, notwithstanding 
their tepidity. Nothing is more difficult to describe than 
taste — it can be done only by comparison ; and I scarcely 
know with what to compare the taste of these waters. They 
have very little taste of any kind while passing over the pal- 
ate ; but leave a slight tang in the throat, similar to that produ- 
ced by the juice of the wild turnip diluted. They have a yel- 
lowish tinge, occasioned by the presence of a small quantity 
of iron, amounting it is said, to a fraction of a grain in a gal- 
lon ; and contain besides, a little carbonic acid and nitrogen 
gas ; a little muriate and sulphate of soda ; a little carbonate 
and sulphate of lime, and a little silex. The iron is in a state 
of oxycarbonate. The whole solid contents in a pint of 
water amount only to something less than ten grains — a 
quantity too small to affect the most delicate constitution, in 
an uncombined state. But notwithstanding the contemptible 
residuum obtained by an analysis of these waters, they pow- 
erfuUy affect the system, as I can abundantly testify, having 
already drunk myself into a fever, attended by a violent 
head-ache. Yet, the quantity I have taken in two days is less 
than a pint and a half. Most assuredly, it is unsafe to swill 
Bath waters by the pail-full, as our gentry do those of the 
Ballston Spa. The effects immediately perceived are, a 
warmth in the chest, presently diffused through the whole 
system ; the pulse is quickened ; the face is flushed ; and 



292 



JOURNAL. 



copious perspiration follows, if aided by^ exercise. Their 
temperature at the source varies from 112° to 116°. The 
effects I have experienced are such as to oblige me to desist 
for a day or tvt'o, or only " taste the Pierian spring." Amer- 
icans, who are accustomed in their own country to drink 
water at least free of expense, whether impregnated or not, 
are a little surprised to learn, that they cannot even taste the 
Bath waters without depositing five shillings a week, or en- 
tering their names as pawpers ! It is true, the accommoda- 
tions of the pump-room are very magnificent. You have a 
bald-headed, sleepy old man, to pump the water for you ; and 
it spouts through a bright brass pipe ; and it is handed to you 
by a nymph of the fountain, in the shape of a coarse, fat, po- 
lite old woman ; and you may dry your fingers on a napkin ; 
and you may walk to and fro in the pump-room, a noble Gre- 
cian temple of Bath free-stone ; and look at the statue of 
Beau Nash, the former Deus loci ; and you may lounge on 
the sofas in the semicircular recess : but after all, the water 
would taste quite as well, if the visiter had the privilege of 
catching it himself. But the English extract profit out of 
every thing ; and the corporation of the " Aunciente and 
Honourable Citie of Bathe" contrive to turn the free gifts 
of heaven designed for the benefit of the diseased, the maim- 
ed, and the wretched, into a source of enormous profit ; be- 
sides the harvest of wealth which they reap indirectly from 
the annual influx of all that is gay, and noble, and v/ealthy in 
the land. In fact you can neither move, breathe, speak, 
think, be well, be sick, die, or be buried in England, without 
paying roundly for it. Witli an income of some thousands a 
year, you may have all the conveniences and luxuries under 
heaven, except that of fair weather, which all the wealth of 
the Marquis of Stafford cannot help him to. 

Passing one evening by the Huntington Chapel, curiosity 
induced me to enter. A young man from London was ex- 
horting the congregation, which scarcely amounted to thirty. 
It was gratifying to see that the Antinomian S. S. had so few 
followers in Bath. When the speaker had concluded his 
observations, he proposed, that " some of the brethren pre^ 



HUNTINGTON CHAPEL. 29S 

sent should relate what God had done for their souls. Come, 
brother Fisher ; can't you tell us something of your religious 
experience ?" Brother Fisher commenced a narrative, but 
in so low a tone that I was unable to hear him. A young 
man near me, being next called upon, got up ; and after some 
apologies for opening his mouth in the presence of those, 
whose age and acquaintance with the Lord's dealings were 
so much greater than his own, gave a common-place relation 
of his experience, in which there was a great deal of cant, 
and very little which could edify. He concluded by desi- 
ring brother Miller, "one of the fathers in Christ, to offer 
something for the instruction of babes in christian experience, 
as he professed himself to be." Brother M. spoke with more 
ability than his predecessors ; and amongst much which was 
objectionable, he had some strong thoughts, and made some 
striking, and not inappropriate allusions to Scriptural inci- 
dents ; but the tendency of each speaker to do away the mor- 
al obligations of the gospel was most observable. Their ob- 
servations were all decidedly of an antinomian cast, and 
were calculated to strengthen each other in that pernicious 
delusion. The burthen of their exhortations was, — " Am I 
in Christ ? If so, then I am safe," but a religious frame 
of mind, and holiness of life, were excluded as evidences 
of being in Christ, or even as necessary christian attainments. 
The preacher spoke of " the distress of some dear servants 
of God, because they were not holier or better. Why, said, 
he, you have nothing to do with growing better — it will not 
help forward your salvation in the least. Paul said ' as ye 
have received the Lord Jesus, so walk in him ;' that is, as ye 
have received him as a suitable and all-sufficient Saviour, 
who is to do every thing for you ; continue to consider him 
in this light only : and let holiness alone. Rely on him — 
that's all." — Brother Miller said of working, " we have 
nothing to do with that no more'than this pew" — giving it at the 
same time an emphatic slap with his spacious palm. Here 
then was divinity with a vengeance. The disciple has only 
to persuade himself that he has faith, and he is at liberty to 
*' work all manner of uncleanness vi^ith greediness." Yet 



2814 JOURNAL. 

there were better things said in the course of the meeting ; 
and I have no doubt, but that the Hves of many of these Hun- 
tington antinomians are more exemplary, than their specula- 
tive faith is calculated to make them. — I left the London ex- 
horter commenting on Brother Miller's " experience," in a 
disquisition, which seemed to have neither beginning, middle, 
nor end. 

Thursday, July 8. — Fever and excessive debility have 
obtiged me to confine my excursions for a day or two past, 
within narrow limits. The weather is such, however, as to 
offer few temptations to a pedestrian. The heavens are con- 
stantly overshadowed, and now and then a copious shower 
relieves the sameness of the thick drizzle, with which the at^- 
mosphere is loaded. Under such circumstances, time pass- 
es heavily enough. Some languid hours I contrive to des- 
patch over the pages of Griscom, who appears to be a plain 
matter-of-fact man, describing with fidelity the objects and 
events which came under his own observation. 

The weather clearing up about noon, which it often does 
after a rainy morning, I made an excursion to Beechen Cliff, 
across the Avon directly south of the city. This is a bold, 
precipitous bluff, nearly two hundred feet high, rising imme- 
diately in front of Bath bridge, which crosses the Avon at 
the base of the hill ; and overlooks almost every house in 
the place. The prospect indeed i^ a perfect panorama. A 
thin, transparent veil of smoke hung gracefully over the mass 
of buildings which lay beneath; and the declining sun, now 
shining out with uncommon lustre, revealed one of the most 
beautiful scenes in the world. The north bank of the Avon, 
on which Bath is situated, rises by an ascent gradual at first, 
but soon becoming very steep as it recedes from the river. 
The streets are necessarily irregular, in conformity to the 
variety and steepness of the surface. On the side of Beacon 
hill, they rise one above another, the houses in those above 
overlooking those below ; while in other quarters, they wind 
about with a graceful irregularity, presenting new and various 
points of view at every step. From the summit of the cUfF 
where I stood, the whole city with its beautiful environs, and 



BEECHEN CLIFF. 295 

the picturesque hills by which it is surrounded and overtop- 
ped, lay spread put before me. Far up the ascent to the 
north-west, stretched the splendid range of buildings in Lans- 
downe Crescent, with a delightful green lawn in front 
sloping rapidly down to All Saints' Chapel — a picturesque 
Gothic structure embosomed among trees. A little to the right 
is Lansdowne Grove — a thick mass of verdure, interspersed 
with white cottages and mansions, extending quite to the top 
of Beacon'hill, itself a prominent and pleasing object in the 
view. The Royal Crescent appears again on the left, a 
noble semicircular range of houses in a fine style of archi- 
tecture ; with its verdant Crescent Fields spread out in front 
— all looking towards the south, and all seen to the best 
advantage from this spot, which, one might fancy, was raised 
by the Creator as a chosen point of vision over the most beau- 
tiful city in the island. Directly to the north and nearer 
the river, where the slope approaches more nearly to a level, 
is huddled together a dense mass of buildings browned by 
smoke ; in the midst of which the Abbey church rears its 
hoary bulk. The Avon above the city can be traced only by 
the line of houses and shops on its banks ; but after passing 
under Bath bridge, it steals away with a gentle current, 
winding gracefully through meadows now adorned with that 
peculiarly light, mellow green, which appears immediately 
after the crop has been mown ; and which, when illuminated 
by the gleams of a setting sun, presents one of the richest 
liveries in nature. Looking up this irregular valley, the eye 
wanders over Pultney Street, with its noble rows of dwellings' 
— Sydney gardens — Bathwick new church, a handsome spe- 
cimen of modern Gothick — Frances Square, a wilderness of 
shrubbery and fruit-trees ; and rests at length on Little Sal- 
isbury, a hill in shape not unlike a truncated cone. In the 
back-ground to the north, the Lansdowne hills stretch along 
with their level summits, until they terminate in Prospect 
Point to the west. While gazing at this rich and varied 
scenery, it seemed difficult to determine, whether the hand of 
nature or of art has been the most lavish in its decorations. 
But what is Bath — Bath in its season — in the height of its 



S96 JOURNAL. 

meridian glory ; when its streets glitter with the equipages 
of the rich, the high-born and the gay, and its festal halls re- 
sound with the voice of mirth and dissipation ? A scene of 
splendid iniquity — a resort of gamblers, noble and ignoble — 
of pleasure-hunters and debauchees — a great vanity fair — 
a theatre of folly, dissipation, extravagance, and all the child- 
ish amusements, which the panders of pleasure have invent- 
ed to lighten the ennui of those whe live without an object. 
Such is Bath. It owes its rise to the degradation of mankind 
— its splendid crescents, its gay gardens, its wealth, its magni- 
ficence, to the follies of the English people. Could He who 
once paused on the Mount of Olives to weep over the sins 
and the fate of Jerusalem, look down from this elevation on 
the devotees of pleasure, running their perpetual career of 
dissipation — at the theatre, the gambling table, " the rooms," 
the turf, the feast, the dance, and the masquerade ; never 
once thinking, perhaps, of him who was bruised for their 
iniquities, or looking forward to a judgment to come and the 
recompense of reward : what compassion would not arise in 
his bosom, that of all the giddy multitude beneath, so small a 
number would " consider the things which belong to their 
peace !" Yet, I know not that Bath is more guilty than 
man)' other cities on the earth. In America, we have not 
yet the means of supporting such splendid follies ; but we 
are dissipated in other ways. Intemperance reigns among us 
in a degree, to which I have seen no parallel in England ; 
and our rulers have not the moral courage to tax the fiery 
poison. Perhaps the thing is impossible, under so popular 
a form of government as ours ; in which case our reforma- 
tion, if we are ever reforaaed, must be wrought out by moral 
causes alone. 

The legendary history of Bath is perhaps as well worth 
reading, as many which claim to be more veracious. Bla- 
dud, son of Hudibras king of the Britons, nobody knows how 
long ago, was so grievously afflicted with the leprosy, as to 
render him unfit to appear at his father's court. On his ex- 
pulsion, however, he received from the queen his mother, a 
ring, by means of which he might make himself known to her 



LEGEND. 297 

on his return, should he be so fortunate as to be cured of his 
disease. The unfortunate prince had not gone far in his 
wanderings, before he engaged himself to a swine-herd, but 
was unlucky enough to communicate the disease to his grunt- 
ing charge. One morning he had driven them across the 
Avon at Swineford, just below Bath ; and as lie ascended the 
hill, the rising sun, breaking through the clouds, saluted the 
royal swine-herd with his comfortable beams. While he 
was paying his morning devotions to the god of day, and 
praying that the wrath of heaven might be averted from him 
and his herd ; they were suddenly seized with an unaccount- 
able propensity to run away. The prince followed them up 
the valley till they came to a thicket, where the warm springs 
bubbled up among the weeds and brambles, which overhung 
the margin. In they plunged, and wallowed with great ap- 
parent satisfaction in the warm, oozy bed of the fountain ; 
and it was with no small difliculty that they were prevailed 
on to abandon so agreeable a pastime. The prince washed 
them like a careful swine-feeder, and shut them up in sepa- 
rate inclosures, in hopes of arresting the progress of the in- 
fection. A favourite sow however made her escape ; and 
after a week's search, he found her in the spring, where she 
had experienced so pleasant a regale before. On wash, 
ing her, he found to his ineffable surprise that the leprosy 
had disappeared. " If hogs, why not men"-— reasoned the 
prince ; and in he plunged, and wallowed, to his heart's con. 
tent, in the ooze and mud of the spring. This he repeated 
day by day until his own cure was effected ; and then led 
his whole herd to the salutiferous fountains where they all 
found the healing he had hoped and prayed for. He then 
returned in disguise to court ; and by dropping the ring into 
a glass of wine intended for his mother, he made himself 
known, and was joyfully restored to his place. In due time 
he succeeded to the throne, and reigned happily for twenty 
years ; and might have continued to reign much longer ; but 
unluckily having a mechanical genius and a turn for making 
experiments, he constructed a pair of wings, with which 
he made divers essays with very good success. This how. 



298 JOURNAL- 

ever proved his ruin ; for soaring aloft one day, he lost his 
poise, and fell and broke his neck on Salisbury church, to the 
grief of his loving subjects. That the healing quality of 
these waters was known to the ancient Britons, is altogeth- 
er probable ; and it is certain that they were in great celeb- 
rity, while the Romans possessed the island. About the 
middle of the last century, the walls were uncovered by 
which the Romans had enclosed the thermal springs ; and 
which as well as some of their baths, were finished in a su- 
perior style of masonry. 

The eminence of Bath in more modern times is owing to 
the contemptible creature Beau Nash, whose memory is em- 
balmed in the Spectator. He was the first Master of Cere- 
monies, who reduced fashionable dissipation to a system — 
gave it laws — arranged points of etiquette and manners ; and, 
for near half a century, was the oracle on these momentous 
matters, as well as the glass by which the dandies of those 
days dressed themselves. Under his auspices the place be- 
came famous in the beau monde, and increased prodigiously. 
Here, this gay fool fluttered year after year — kept a splen- 
didly furnished house — a chariot and six bays, and a host of 
footmen and horsemen, who attended him when he rode 
abroad in state, with bugles, French horns, and other instru- 
ments of musick. The Corporation expressed their gratitude 
for the important benefits he conferred on the city, by erect- 
ing his full length statue in the pump-room, between the 
busts of Newton and Pope, which gave rise to the keen and 
well-merited satire of Chesterfield — 

The slatut placed the busts between, 
Adds to the satire strength ; 
Wisdom and Wit are little seen, 
But Folly at full length. 

^ A notable squabble occured about fifty years since, in a 
contested election to the dignified office of Master of Cere- 
monies. A subscription to the balls at the rooms was the 
qualification of a voter, whether lady or gentleman. A va- 
cancy occuring, two candidates were proposed,- each sup- 
ported by a faction ; both were elected, irregularly of course. 



PROSPECT POINT. 299 

The parties met at a ball, both sides resolved to support their 
favourite beau — high words passed — one of the rival kings 
of Bath was led out of the room by the nose — the dandies 
fell to blows ; and the ladies, who began the affray, joined ■ 
in the melee, to the great discomfiture of laces, feathers, and 
other articles of ball-room finery. 

Fair nymphs achieve illustrious feats — 
Off fly their tuckers, caps, and tetes ; 
Pins and pomatum strew the room, 
Emitting many a strange perfume : 
Each tender form is stangely batter'd : 
And odd things here and there are scatter'd : 
In heaps confused the heroines lie — 
With horrid shrieks they pierce the sky ; 
Their charms are lost in scratches, scars — 
Sad emblems of domestic wars. 

Thus sang the Epic poet on the memorable occasion. 

July 10th. I am now sitting on Prospect Point, the south- 
western extremity of Lansdowne, and the most elevated 
ground within many miles of Bath. It is one of those glori- 
ous mornings which sometimes arise in such perfect beauty, 
as almost to make us forget that the repose of the elements 
can ever be disturbed. Low down in a valley to the south- 
east, and about four miles distant, the city appears, partially 
concealed by the projecting point of a hill, and arrayed in a 
transparent mantle of thin, blue smoke. Far beyond, and 
in the same direction, the Marlborough and Wiltshire downs, 
and Salisbury plain, stretch along the horizon, with a slight- 
ly irregular outline, till they terminate in an abrupt declivity 
at Stour Head ; on the brow of which, Alfred's tower is dis- 
tinctly visible, twenty-five miles distant, and in a direction due 
south. Here commence the Mendip Hills, less elevated than 
the former ; and these, with other highlands, complete the 
boundary as far westward as the, British channel. — In the 
valley at my feet, to the south-west and west, the beautiful 
Avon winds along in graceful sinuosities, through a velvet 
margin of meadows, across which the shadows, flit before a 
strong breeze from the ocean. Hamlets, towers, and village 
churches— the stately mansions of the rich, and the lowly cot- 



300 JOURNAL. 

tages of the poor — clumps of trees, green hedges and lawns, 
are sprinkled all over the landscape, as if rained down from 
the clouds, and lie spread out beneath as on a map. Over 
all these, the sun sheds af times a glorious flood of light — 
the harvest, just beginning to look golden, waves gracefully 
before the wind — the larks are twittering over my head — a 
thrush is warbling his wild notes in yonder brake — sheep in 
countless myriads are grazing on the downs around me, the 
tinkling musick of their bells relieving the solitude ; and " the 
soft musick of the village bells," stealing up the valley on 
the breeze, " falls at intervals upon the ear, in cadence 
sweet." A scene so rich, so peaceful, so inspiring as this, 
is not often to be met with even in this beautiful island, and 
seems to breathe new life and healthfulness into the soul. 

Proceeding farther round the headland, to the westward, 
a new prospect is disclosed. The spectator traces the wind- 
ings of the Avon down to Bristol, twelve or fourteen miles 
distant, whose site is marked out by the clouds of smoke 
which brood over the city ; and through which, as they are 
occasionally puffed aside by the wind, the towers of the 
churches are visible. Turning more to the north, he fol- 
lows the windings of the Severn far up towards Gloucester ; 
and beyond in the distance, he discries the dim misty forms 
of the Welch mountains of Brecknock, Monmouth, the Skir- 
rard Vaur and the Sugar-loaf — more distinguished by their 
bold, swelling outline, than by their extraordinary elevation. 
To the westward, and in the extreme verge of the horizon, 
the light flashing billows of the sea are barely discernible 
from this point. A battle was fought here during the usur- 
pation of Cromwell ; and a monument, erected on the spot 
where an officer of distinction in the royal army fell, is 
still remaining. My walk hither led up a continued ascent 
of two miles ; after which it lay across the more level surface 
of the downs. On my return, I passed over the " Lans- 
downe races," where the workmen were employed in erect- 
ing booths and scaffolding, for the spectators of this refined 
amusement. 

Sunday, July 11th. — This morning I spent in the Abbey 



BATH ABBEY. 301 

Church. This is said to be one of the latest specimens of 
ecclesiastical Gothic architecture in the country ; that is, of 
cathedral or abbey churches : for, of parochial churches, 
many have been erected since. Like other abbey churches, 
it is built in the usual style of cathedrals — with a clere-story, 
side aisles and transept. It is said to owe its er^iction to a 
vision of a prelate of Bath, in the latter part of the fifteenth 
century, so very similar to that of the patriarch Jacob, that 
the good man must have mistaken it for his own. It was not 
finally completed till the middle of the seventeenth century, 
when it was in a great measure re-built on the ruins of the 
old structure. The patriarch's vision supplied the architect 
with appropriate, but rather unusual decorations, for the ex- 
terior of the edifice. Two large octangular turrets flank the 
great window over the western entrance, and on the front 
of these the bishop's vision is represented. The turrets are 
wrought in the form of ladders, on which angels are ascend- 
ing to unite themselves to the choir of Cherubim and Sera- 
phim, who appear above the arch of the window in adoring 
attitudes, chanting the praises of the Holy Trinity. The ig- 
norance of that age may perhaps excuse, in some degree, the 
presumption of representing the Divine Majesty under a visi- 
ble form. Statues of the three persons in the Trinity once 
occupied a beautiful niche in the centre of the battlements, 
and appeared to be receiving the homage of the group of an- 
gels below ; but of these, only the middle one is remaining ! 
The interior view of the church is rich and majestic ; but the 
side aisles appear low and flat, compared with the lofty pro- 
portions of the nave. The church is 210 feet in length, by 
126 in breadth at the transept ; the height of the main tower 
is 162 feet. It is, on the whole, a noble structure ; but the 
exterior view is sadly obstructed by the clumsy buildings, 
by which the lower part of its walls is concealed. In fact, 
the two ends only are exposed to view. The choir is now 
constantly used as a parish church, and to-day was filled by 
a numerous congregation. The cathedral service is partly 
used, aided by a powerful and fine-toned organ. The ser- 
mon was a respectable performance, but not sufficiently re- 
26 



303 JOURNAL. 

markable to challenge criticism. In the afternoon, I attend- 
ed service in Walcott Chapel, and heard an excellent dis- 
course from a Wesleyan preacher ; the chapel belonging to 
the followers of Mr. Wesley. The congregation here was 
thin, although the chapel is very spacious. Christ Church 
is a new and beautiful building erected by subscription, for 
the accommodation of the poor — all the sittings on the 
ground floor being free. I found a large congregation as- 
sembled in it, and heard a plain, practical sermon, well ad- 
apted to the character of the audience. I was disappointed 
in my attempts to hear Mr. Jay of the independent Chapel, 

Monday, 12th. After breakfast this morning, Mr. P , 

to whose attentions I already feel deeply indebted, called to 
propose a walk to some of the neighbouring downs which I 
have not yet visited. Downs in England are large expanses 
of uninclosed country, usually of a thin soil, and appropria- 
ted to the pasturage of sheep. The superior excellence of 
the mutton fattened on the downs, is ascribed to the abund- 
ance of wild thyme which grows on them. We first ascend- 
ed Hampton downs to the south-east of the city, enjoying 
once more the beautiful prospects which every where ex- 
pand to the eye in the environs of Bath. At the eastern ex- 
tremity, we came to one of the principal quarries of Bath 
stone, of which, immense quantities are excavated in this 
neighbourhood. Near this place is the mouth of a quarry 
now deserted, but which is wrought under a considerable 
valley to Claverton downs, forming a tunnel of nearly a mile 
in length ! The stone is found in the quarry intersected by 
transverse seams, by which the labour of quarrying is great- 
ly facilitated. A railway leads from the quarry down a 
steep hill to a canal, nearly half a mile distant. The blocks 
are laid on carriages running on low iron wheels, which are 
let down the railway by a cable, passing over an immense 
cylinder. A carriage is attached to each end of the cable ; and 
the loaded one in its descent draws up the empty one. The 
canal unites with the Avon at Bath ; and, by means of another 
canal, a water communication is formed with the Thames, 
through which large quantities of the Bath stone are transport- 



CLAVERTON DOWNS. 303 

ed to the metropolis. Proceeding in our walk, we turned the 
brow of the hill, and came to an elegant mansion nearly finish- 
ed. Tiie owner had the bad taste to pull down a beautiful pic- 
turesque structure, farther down the valley, to make room for 
the erection of a formal three-story building. To the antiqua- 
ry, the old one was interesting, from its having been damaged 
in the battle of Claverton downs, fought during the civil wars, 
in the immediate neighbourhood. A cannon shot which lodg- 
ed in the house is still preserved. We passed the venerable 
pile, now fast disappearing under the pick-axes of the work- 
men ; as well as the hoary, antique parish church of Claverton, 
situated in one of the most beautiful rural seclusions in the 
world ; and called at the parsonage. In the absence of the 
Rector, we were hospitably received by a lady of the family, 
and regaled ourselves on the fruits with which the garden 
abounded. A more enviable situation than this, to a per- 
son fond of a retired life, can scarcely be conceived. The 
parsonage is a Gothic building, now mossed over with age, 
but neat and comfortable, and overlooking one of the most 
lovely vallies I ever beheld, through which " the soft flowing 
Avon" (not Shakspeare's) winds gracefully along by the side 
of its more formal sister, the Bath and Kennet canal. Re- 
suming our walk, we reached town by a circuitous path, hav- 
ing rambled in all about ten miles. 

Bath is wholly built of the free-stone brought from the 
neighbouring quarries. The blocks are sawed into the re- 
quisite size and shape with a common cross-cut saw, to which 
the stone yields almost as readily as wood. Indeed, when 
first taken from the earth, it is but little harder than chalk ; 
and a stone-cutter with his chisel and mallet, will carve out 
a cornice or the tracery of a window, with even more rapidity 
than could be done in solid timber. The stone when fresh 
is of a yellow cream colour ; but it grows brown by exposure 
to the smoke, and hardens in the air. An uncommonly 
pure taste in architecture prevails throughout the public 
buildings in Bath, as well as in the numerous crescents with 
which the city is beautified. The attention of strangers is 
usually directed to Bathwick New Church among other 



304 . JOURNAL. 

buildings worthy of notice. This is in a light and florid style 
of Gothic architecture ; but connoisseurs in the science affirm 
that the ornamental parts want relief, and are distributed with 
too much profusion. It may also be questioned, whether the 
adoption of the style of the Minister is admissible in paro- 
chial churches of the ordinary dimensions. The parts are 
too much broken up, and a diminutive appearance is given 
to the building, by the clere-story, which properly belongs 
only to churches of ample size. Through the kindness of 
my attentive friend, I was shown some of the public rooms 
devoted to amusement during the gay season. Many of 
these exhibit beautiful specimens of architecture, and are 
fitted up in the interior with great magnificence and taste. 
On the whole, I have seen no city in the island which can 
vie with this in natural beauty of situation, or in the decora- 
tions which art has bestowed upon it. I leave it with reluct, 
ance, and with a lively sense of the politeness and hospital- 
ity I have experienced from some of its inhabitants. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 



BRISTOL BRANDON HILL REDCLIFF CHURCH CLIFTON THE ROMAN 

CAjIP SCENERY RIDE TO WRINGTON BARLEY WOOD PLEASURE 

GROUNDS AND SCENERY HANNAH MORE CONVERSATIONS RE- 
MARES. 

About the middle of the afternoon on Monday, I ascended 
the Bristol coach, and bade adieu to Bath. The guard " put 
to his mouth the sounding alchymy," and we flew away at a 
rapid rate over the hard, polished road. The weather was 
exquisite, and the ride delightful. Keynsham, with its fine 
looking old church, was the principal village on our road, 
which lay for a considerable part of the distance along the 
left bank of the Avon. Just befoi-e entering Bristol, we came 
upon the Froom, with its deep muddy banks, now exposed by 
the reflux of the tide ; but were soon lost in a narrow, ill- 



BRISTOL. ^^^ 

looking street, quite darkened by the jutting of the old houses 
over our heads. At length we were deposited at the " Bush, 
in Corn Street, near the centre of the city. This is a shape- 
less, old-fashioned pile, like most city inns in places which 
boast of great antiquity ; and the steams of Radical coffee 
did in no wise tend to raise my estimation of the drinkables 
of the house. However, after refreshing myself with a 
dish of the aforesaid beverage, and brushing off the dust, I 
sallied forth, and threaded my way through intricate streets, 
to Brandon Hill in the western suburbs. Ascending it by a 
steep path, I was amply rewarded by a prospect over the 
whole city, which lay spread out before me. It present- 
ed a broad surface of dun red tiles, relieved here and there 
by a steeple or tower of Bath stone projecting aloft, and 
breaking the unpleasing uniformity of colour. On my re- 
turn, I provided myself with a map of the city, and set forth 
again in search of Redcliff church. This is a hoary, vene- 
rable pile, built and repaired at different periods ; but pre- 
senting altogether a rich example of ancient Gothic. It 
stands in the edge of the city, on a hill of reddish clay, whence,, 
I suppose, its name is derived. After spending some time in 
examining the exterior, I sent for the keys, and was admitted 
by a young woman of interesting appearance, but so near the 
last stages of the consumption, that it ^Yas evident she must- 
soon make her bed among the sleepers bard by. She had 
scarcely voice enough left to explain what I wished. On 
one of the pillars within hangs the armour of Admiral Penn, 
the father of the patria.rch of Pennsylvania, with tattered 
banners waving about it which had been wrested by his valour 
from his country's foes. What a poor thing is posthumous 
glory, when it can show no more than this ? The marble 
effigies of " Cannying" and his lady are stretched on a tomb 
in one of the side aisles. The almost illegible inscription 
bears, that he was the founder of the church. There is 
something very striking to the imagination in these marble 
figures, reposing at full length amid the silence and dimness 
of an ancient Gothic fane, as if waiting the time, when 
" all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Soa 
36* 



306 



JOURNAL. 



of Man and shall come forth." The reader of Enghsh poetry 
will recollect, that it was in the tower of this church that 
Chatterton pretended to have discovered the Rowley manu- 
scripts. The interior of the building is even more imposing 
than the exterior, and is altogether worthy the attention of the 
ecclesiastical antiquarian. 

Tuesday, 13ih. Having but little time to spare, I rose 
early, and walked to Clifton, the court-end of the town. 
The crescents, terraces, gardens and elegant mansions, half 
buried in foliage, which rise one above another on the steep 
side of the hill, and overlook the valley below, conspire to 
render this by far the most desirable part of Bristol. In- 
deed, the natural beauties of its situation are peculiar, and 
and in some points of view, quite picturesque. Passing 
through the principal streets, and ascending the hill, I came 
to " the Roman Camp," the highest point of land in the 
neighbourhood. On the top of the hill is an area of three or 
four acres, terminating on the side next the Avon in a bold 
and almost perpendicular precipice two hundred feet in 
height. An ancient circular tower, now partly dilapidated, 
rises in the centre of the area. For what purpose it was 
constructed, has excited as much speculation, as has been 
bestowed on the not dissimilar piece of antiquity at New- 
port, Rhode-Island. It is too slight to have been intended 
for the purposes of military defence, and tradition is silent I 
believe concerning its origin. It might have been a watch- 
tower erected in feudal times, as it commands an extensive 
view of the adjacent countiy. The Avon here leaves its 
low, verdant banks ; and turning to the northward, enters a 
deep chasm, which seems to have been opened through the 
chain of rocky hills on purpose to give it a passage. As 
I stood admiring the wild scenery of the place, a dozen 
blasts were fired in quick succession at the bottom of the 
precipice, the reverberations of which along the narrow 

glen produced a striking effect. The principal part of 

Bristol Hes on a plain, intersected by the Froom and Avon, 
the latter of which is diverted from its bed by nume- 
rous canals and basins, for the reception of shipping. The 
city stands about fiive or six miles from the Severn, which is 



RIDE TO BARLEY WOOD. 307 

visible from no part of the suburbs ; and its growth must be 
imputed to accidental circumstEinces, rather than to natural 
local advantages. Owing to the veri" winding course of the 
stream, and the lofty banks and narrow channel, it is often 
necessary to waxp the vessels up from the Severn, which 
must be a tedious operation, even when aided by the tide. 
In returning, I traversed the principal streets of the citv — 
visited some of the churches and public buildings, which 
appear to be scarcely worthy of a populous, commercial 
emporium, and present a striking contrast to the neat and 
beautiful editices of Bath. In the centre of Queen Square 
is a handsome, bronze, equestrian statue of WiUiam III. ; 
but if the place abounds in works of art, they are unfortu- 
nately out of the reach of the traveller's inspection. The 
noise of commerce resoimds in the streets and on the quays ; 
- and most of the pubUc works are as they should be, design- 
ed rather for utility than for show. I returned just in time 
for the coach to take me to Lcmgford, in the neighbour- 
hood of Barley Wood. 

The coach set off at ten, with its top overloaded with a 
cargo of rustics, whose manners and conversation were not 
of the most courtly description. Our road lay over a long 
succession of hills, which afforded delightful views of the 
countrv", as well as of the picturesque scenerv' about Clifton. 
The day rivalled in splendor one of our finest and clearest in 
June. It was the season of hay-making ; and the number 
of female labourers in the fields appeared to be equal at 
least to that of the men. At Red Hill, about nine miles from 
Bristol, a pudding-stone occurs, the calcareous cement of 
which is so deeply coloured with iron as to render the soil of 
a deep Spanish brown. Proceeding in a south-easterly 
direction, we arrived at Langford, thirteen miles from Bristol, 
a little after noon. Langford is only a straggling hamlet of 
a score of houses, situated in a broad and fertile valley. I 
stopped at a paltrv Iim ; and having despatched the indispen- 
sible labours of the toilet, walked over the plain to Wring. 
ton, a village situated about a mile from the post road, and in 
the immediate -s-icinity of Barley Wood. The approach to 



SOS JOURNAL. 

the cottagi^ IS along a narrow road lined with hedges of a ru- 
ral neglected appearance, and leading in front of Barley 
Wood, from which it is separated by a wall and sloping 
lawn. The cottage is almost concealed from the road by 
the trees and shrubbery planted along the wall. A winding 
walk leads from the gate up to the house. I gave my letters 
and card to the servant, and was soon after introduced in the 
midst of a large company, who were paying their morning 
visit at the Wood. So great is the attraction of visiters to 
this retired spot, that four parties have already waited upon 
Mrs. M. this morning, and been entertained by her conversa- 
tion, although she is but just recovering from a recent illness. 
The party soon retired and I was gratified by an invitation 
to pass the day at the cottage. 

I walked out before dinner to survey the grounds which 
are laid out in quite a rural, inartificial style. A thrifty grove 
of young Avood rises from the ascending ground in the rear of 
the cottage, which it overlooks, as well as the verdant lawn 
in the midst of which the cottage is situated. Indeed, the 
premises are entirely surrounded by a border of trees and 
shrubbery, which deepen the natural seclusion of the place. 
Following one of the walks till it led to a deeply shaded spot, 
I found a marble urn bearing the following inscription — " To 
Beilby Porteus, late Bishop of London, in grateful memoiy 
of long and faithful friendship ;" — and further up the hill is 
another, " To John Locke (born in this village) this memo- 
rial is erected by Mrs. Montague, and presented to Hannah 
More." Two or three rustic bowers, in the most sequester- 
ed and shady spots, invited the pedestrian to pause in his 
walk ; and a Doric arch, built of stumps, knots of trees, and 
rough slabs, rises from the best point of observation, and has 
a very pleasing effect at a distance. The cottage is, in fact, 
a very convenient house, of ample dimensions for the accom- 
modation of a moderately numerous family. It has a draw- 
ing and dining room on the ground floor, with bow windows, 
almost covered externally with the fox-glove, and other creep- 
ing vines. The walls of the dining room are hung with en- 
graved portraits of her friends — the Bishops of St. David's, 



BAilLEY WOOD. 309 

of Litchfield, and Durham — the late Henry Thornton, Esq., 
Mr. Wilberforce, Dr. Johnson, Garrick, Burke, Pitt, and other 
great men, who honoured the proprietor of Barley Wood with 
their acquaintance and friendship. I observed among them 
a very pleasing original sketch, illustrating a scene in Cce- 
lebs. It represented Lucilla and Phoebe in the sick woman's 
cottage — the former kneeling by the bedside on which lay 
her hat and gloves — Lucilla preparing the broth by the fire ; 
and Coelebs without, observing the scene through the half 
opened door. — The grounds of Barley Wood command a 
lovely prospect over the valley of Wrington — the barren Men- 
dip hills on the opposite side, sending up here and there a 
column of thin blue smoke from the furnaces for reducing 
ore, which is dug in large quantities from the mines ; and the 
villages of Wrington and Langford, with the fine old Gothic 
church and spire in the former. The eye follows the valley 
as it stretches away to the south-east, where it is lost in the 
estuary of the Severn about seven or eight miles distant ; 
from which Steep-Holm projects its bold, prominent bluff. 
Few scenes can be imagined more peaceful and secluded — 
nothing appears in the prospect to excite strong emotion — 
nothing that is grand or picturesque — all is quietness and re- 
pose. The trees at Barley Wood, with three or four excep- 
tions, have all been planted by Mrs. More. A beautiful 
acacia in front of the house is not one of the least ornaments 
of the place ; and roses and flowering shrubs in profusion 
display their colours, and shed their perfumes in all directions. 
Mrs. More did not appear at dinner, as her infirmities 
scarcely allow her to leave her room. Afl;er dinner, we ad- 
journed to her apartments, into which tea was brought ; and 
just before sunset I took leave, and returned to Langford. 
As I retraced my steps over the plain towards the village inn, 
the air filled with fragrance from the newly mown hay, the 
sun just sinking in a cloudless sky behind the hills towards 
the ocean, and a universal stillness reigning over the peace- 
ful valley, my thoughts naturally caught something of the 
spirit of the hour and of the scene ; and I could not help re- 
flecting on the good fortune which had befallen me, in hav- 



310 



JOURNAL. 



ing been permitted to pass the day in company with one of 
the most distinguished females of the age. 

Most readers, possessed of common curiosity, are desirous 
of knowing something of the personal appearance and domes- 
tic manners of those who have rendered themselves eminent 
in the world ; and there is no impropriety in their being grat- 
ified to a certain extent. Mrs. More is rather below the 
common stature, and sits for the most part in her easy chair, 
with her table and work before her. It is three years since 
she has left her chamber — not literally, for she has in that 
period occasionally rode a short distance — but since she has 
left her place in the drawing room and at table. Cheerful- 
ness and good nature are strongly depicted in her face ; and 
her fine dark eyes retain a brilliancy and expression altogeth- 
er uncommon in persons of her advanced years. Age and 
sickness appear not to have dimmed their lustre in the least. 
Whatever may be the topic of conversation, she engages 
in it with great feeling and vivacity ; her ideas are rapid, 
and often playful ; and if the authoress sometimes appears, 
it is only for a moment, and while she is giving utterance to 
some sentiment of more than common importance. There 
is evidently no effort, to talk in a written style ; but her gene- 
ral mode of expressing herself is in short, pithy sentences re- 
plete with meaning. The room where she sits is furnished 
with a copious selection of standard authors ; and the fur- 
niture of the different rooms is plain, but neat, and in good 
taste. 

Much of her valuable life has been passed in a sick cham- 
ber. She remarked that she had been about twenty times 
brought near the borders of the grave ; but that in all her 
sicknesses her mind had been perfectly clear, so that she 
could give directions concerning her affairs. " If I have any 
genius," she observed, " sickness has been the author of it ; 
for it has forced me to be industrious, when I was able to 
hold a pen." Her views of Christian philosophy may be 
gathered from the following incident : Five years ago, a fever 
of twelve month's continuance entirely destroyed the senses 
of smell and taste ; " but see, she remarked, how I have 



HANNAH MORE. 311 

been compensated. For a year longer, I was obliged to take 
medicine eight times a day, and have taken it more or less 
every day since. My life depended on it ; but had my taste 
been spared, I could not possibly have taken these nauseous 
black draughts." This was what she called the doctrine of 
compensations. 

Among the letters she had received from various corres- 
pondents, one from Cobbett was produced, dated at Philadel- 
phia, which I was desired to read aloud for the benefit of the 
company. It was moral and religious, and all that — full of 
compliments to Mrs. M. for her useful and instructive wri- 
tings. It was written in 1796, and represented the govern- 
ment of the United States as a patched up sort of a thing, 
without coherency or stability, and on the eve of a revolution. 
" This was before I knew him as well as I do now. When 
he came back, I used some exertion to get him made editor 
of the Anti- Jacobin Review. I thought him a fit person to 
be set up against Tom Paine — he was strong, coarse, and 
vulgar ; but wrote in a style to take with the common people ; 
and I believed he had good principles. When he had got the 
paper, he turned about and abused me. — Such was his grati- 
tude." The history of her early correspondence with Cob- 
bett she related with great good humour. 

Mrs. M. is gratefully sensible of the popularity of her works 
in America, and speaks of us and our institutions in terms of 
high regard. She hoped there would be no more differences 
between the two countries. They are one in language, one 
in religion, and one in blood : why should political differences 
divide them ? I observed, that the English journalists had 
done more, by their sneering, ill-natured remarks and mis- 
representations, to exasperate the people of the United States, 
than all the acts of the government put together. " That 
is just what I said to Lord S. — ; and he acquiesced in the 
same opinion. He thought they provoked the revolutionary 
war ; he was sure they did much to bring on the last one ; 
and lamented that they would persist in misrepresentation 
and abuse. But so it is. The editors of Journals and Re- 
views find that a spice of malice and abuse makes their works 



312 



JOURNAL. 



sell ; and that is all they want. They are far from express- 
ing the feelings of the English people, and they ought not to 
be seriously regarded." 

How we contrive to support religious institutions without 
an establishment, and without any aid derived from govern- 
ment, is a point not readily comprehended by those of the 
English Avith whom I have conversed. Mrs. M. expressed 
her surprise, that no provision whatever had been made by 
the government for this purpose. I replied, that it was best 
things should remain as they are. This interference of gov- 
ernment in any shape was impracticable, and by no means 
to be desired. The cause which they should undertake to 
support, would be ruined by their patronage. " But how are 
your clergymen supported ?" By annual pew-rents, volun- 
tary taxes and contributions. This dependence is an addi- 
tional inducement for the clergy to do their duty. " But does 
it not make them servile and unfaithful in their preaching ?" 
Quite the contrary. I believe our clergy, as a body, are 
more faithful in this respect than yours. It is the way to gain 
popularity and influence, as well as the way of duty. — " That 
speaks much for the American people." 

From this imperfect record of the conversation which pass- 
ed, some idea may be formed of her ordinary style of ex- 
pression. Her manner is full of vivacity — she uses conside- 
rable gesture without being conscious of it, in the flow of her 
remarks ; and her countenance is lighted up by a glow of 
animation, quite uncommon in others at any period of life. 
She has one or two female friends constantly residing with 
her ; and from them I heard much of her good works — of her 
charities towards the poor — of her three schools for the 
children of the Mendip miners, to which she gave frequent 
personal attention while the state of her health allowed her 
to take the exercise, 



RIDE TO BRIDGEWATER. 313 



CHAPTER XXXIL 



RIDE TO BRIDGEWATER SCENERY BRIDGEWATER SEDGEMOOR 

GLASTONBURY RUINS OF THE ABBEY THE TORR RIDE TO SALIS- 
BURY FOTNHILL ABBEY SALISBURY CATHEDRAL ARCHITECTURE, 

MONUMENTS, i&C. — RETURN TO LONDON BAGSHOT HEATH MILITA- 
RY SCHOOL RUNNY-MEAD ROLLS CHAPEL — OBSERVANCE OF SUN- 
DAY, ^ 

Wednesday, July 14. — After discharging a bill at my pal- 
try inn, which would have justified a much more magnificent 
entertainment than I experienced, I was taken up by the 
Bridgewater coach, about nine in the morning. Our road 
soon left the valley, and began to ascend the Mendip hills 
which form its southern limit ; and as our progress was slow, 
I dismounted and walked on, that I might avail myself of the 
promise which some of the neighbouring eminences afford- 
ed, of new and extensive prospects. In this, I was not dis- 
appointed. The country is here completely rural. Lying 
remote from any of the noisy thoroughfares, it has an air of 
seclusion and quietness not unlike the interior of one of the 
New-England States ; the population is less numerous than 
in most parts of the island I have visited ; and less attention 
seems to be paid to that exquisite neatness and order, which 
are generally seen in the fields and hedges of the English 
farmer. From the top of the range of hills, I had a most 
commanding view over the valley I had left — of the estuary 
of the Severn, studded with little prominant islands ; and of 
the mountainous region of South Wales, stretching along for 
a great distance in the back ground. Barley Wood was al- 
so distinctly visible. It was a green spot on the slope 
beyond the valley ; and, with its white cottage glittering 
through the mass of verdure, formed a pleasing object in the 
prospect ; the more so, by the moral associations with which 
it is connected. I ought to have mentioned, that the cele- 
brated John Locke was born in a mean looking cottage, 
27 



314 JOURNAL. 

close by the church-yard of Wrington. The lustre of that 
philosopher's name was in no respect indebted to his birth. 
After riding about ten miles, we emerged from among the 
hills ; and for the rest of the distance to Bridgewater, our 
road lay over a plain or moorland, presenting on the whole 
a dreary appearance. We crossed the Axe and the Brue, 
two little streams dignified with the name of rivers, and ar- 
rived at Bridgewater just in time to escape a copious visita- 
tion from the clouds. This place contains a population of 
about 4000, but is very indifferently built. It stands on a 
stream formed by the confluence of two others, and is navi- 
gable for sloops to the town. Many of these were taking in 
cargoes of brick and tiles, which are manufactured in large 
quantities in the neighbourhood. Opposite the town, the 
river is spanned by a light bridge of cast iron — these struct- 
ures having pow become quite common in various parts of 
the island. The church, which is old, with a lofty spire 
lately rebuilt, is rurally situated within a large church-yard, 
quite enveloped in shade. I had leisure for only a hasty 
ramble about the town before dinner, which was shared with 
my host and half a dozen jurymen. Our dessert would have 
been considered, perhaps, a little original at a fashionable re- 
past in London. It was a huge, yellow, pickled cucumber, 
flanked by four peeled, raw onions, fresh from the garden. 
How the awarders of justice disposed of these dainties, I did 
not stay to see, as the twanging horn of the Glastonbury 
coach summoned me to take my seat, which I did in the 
midst of a furious rain. The distance to Glastonbury is 
about fifteen miles. Ten miles from Bridgewater, we passed 
Sedgemoor, where the battle was fought which terminated 
the rebellion of the Duke of Monmouth, in 1685. It is a 
low, sedgy plain of considerable extent, from the margin of 
which rises the range of the Poldrip hills, over which the 
road lies. The country in this region seems to be a plain of 
great extent, occasionally broken by hills of a slight eleva- 
tion. Before we arrived at Glastonbury, the rain ceased to 
descend, and the remainder of our ride was pleasant. Glas- 
tonbury is a small, ill-built village, with a population of two 
ot three thousand ; and is remarkable only for the ruins of 



GLASTONBURY ABBEY. 



315 



its once magnificent Abbey. These are said to be the 
most extensive in the kingdom ; and, judging from the scat- 
tered masses which yet remain, and from the hillocks evi- 
denly formed by the crumbling down of the masonry, the 
pile must have covered many acres in the days of its glory. 
Ranges of wall are however still standing, displaying a vari- 
ety of pointed arches and rich tracery, over which the ruin- 
loving ivy has trailed its deep green foliage. In the win- 
dows which yet remain, I observed a prevalence of the Sax- 
on zig-zag mouldings, indicating, I believe, an early period 
of architecture. The most striking features of the ruin 
which now meet the traveller's eye, are the clustered col- 
umns of a spacious arch, which must have once been sixty 
or seventy feet in height, and probably connected the nave 
and choir of the Abbey church. The arch has fallen ; but 
the pillars are entire to the base of their capitals, which are 
full forty feet from the ground. He must be strangely in- 
sensible to the power of local associations, who can walk 
among these half buried ruins, from which the traces of 
former grandeur have not yet become obliterated, without re- 
curring in thought to the days, when the fame of St. Dun- 
stan's miracles, and the odour of his sanctity, were diffused 
through all this region ; nor can he well avoid musing on the 
mutability and decay, which sooner or later seize on the 
proudest productions of human art. Of all the once splen- 
did pile of Glastonbury Abbey, nothing now remains but 
broken columns and crumbling walls ; and of these only a 
few remnants are left. Cattle were quietly grazing under 
those curiously wrought arches, where the monks of olden 
time chanted their matins and vespers — feasted, quaffed, and 
grew fat on the richest ecclesiastical revenue in the king- 
dom. The kitchen, however, is still quite entire. It is an 
octagon of forty or fifty feet diameter, terminating in a dome 
of the same form, and a lantern, through which the savoury 
steams of many a haunch of fat venison arose in days long 
gone by. All is now silent as the grave. The Torr, in 
shape and size not unlike the "tower of a cathedral, stands on 
the summit of a conical hill, about half a mile from the ruins 
of the Abbey. For what purpose it was erected, is now a 



316 JOURNAL. 

matter of unavailing speculation. I regretted that I had not 
time to examine it more nearly, as it appeared to be con- 
structed in a bold style of architecture ; and, from its eleva- 
ted position, is seen at. a great distance in the neighbouring 
country. 

My curiosity to see these ecclesiastical remains had led 
me out of the meridian of coaches, and I was obliged to have 
recourse to mine host of the Abbey Inn, for the means of 
getting to King-Weston, on the Salisbury road. It would 
have shortened the business had I applied at once at head- 
quarters ; as in the cabinet consultation which was held 
thereupon, in the adjoining apartment, I heard a feinale 
voice directing the poor husband, in tones too decisive to ad- 
mit of dispute, to go with the gentleman himself; and giving 
instructions to the ostler to get the chaise ready. Of this 
promptness I reaped the full benefit, the chaise being soon 
at the door, and my complying landlord on the box, as he 
was in duty bound to be. The distance was seven miles, for 
which ten shillings were exacted ; and one shilling to " the 
coach boy." The SaUsbury coach soon arrived, and I took 
my seat on the top. 

The sun broke out with great splendor just as it was sit- 
ting, and gave a striking relief to the Torr, and the lofty con- 
ical eminence on which it stands. On our road, we passed 
Castle Carey, Bruton, Mere, and a few scattered hamlets — 
all seen to pretty good advantage by a bright moon-light. 
Bruton we entered by a cleft in the houses just wide enough 
to admit the coach. As we approached the city of the 
plain, the large bulk of Fonthill Abbey appeared at some 
distance on the right. The history and the fate of this gor- 
geous mansion are v/ell know. After Alderman Beckford 
had expended a princely fortune in its erection ; and had fur- 
nished it in a style surpassing all former magnificence, it was 
besieged by clamorous creditors, and the work of dilapida- 
tion began. Its tapestry, and Italian vases, and painted win- 
dows, were exposed for sale at auction ; — the place which 
eight months ago attracted crowds of admiring visiters, is 
now deserted ; and, through some defect in the masonry, is 
fast going to ruin. At length, the lofty spire of the cathe- 



SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. 317 

dral appeared before us, towering far above all surrounding 
objects ; and an hour or two past miSnight, we were set 
down in the yard of a comfortable Inn. 

A stranger, having a day to pass at Salisbury, will natu- 
rally make its famous Cathedral the first object of his atten- 
tion. I have accordingly devoted a number of hours to a 
survey of this stately pile, and to whatever else appeared to be 
worthy of notice in the city and its environs. On the whole, 
I cannot think the cathedral a very striking object of its kind ; 
for although it has amplitude, and its spire is lofty ; the 
mouldings and carved ornaments appear to want relief, 
which, in Gothic architecture, is to want almost every thing. 
It is surprising how much the effect of such a building de- 
pends on the depth andti-acery of the windows ; and in these 
respects, there appeared to be a great deficiency. The 
ai'chitecture is of an early period ; the windows are broad 
and low ; and the extreme plainness of their mullions, and 
the absence of all tracery in the windovz-heads, give them a 
flat and meagre appearance. The proportions, however, 
both of the exterior and interior, strike the eye agreeably. 
The extreme length is 452 feet, and the breadth at the tran- 
sept 210 feet. The situation is excellent for displaying the 
building to the best advantage, it being surrounded by an 
area of many acres, unincumbered with buildings, and sha- 
ded by a few large elms. The cathedral is destitute in a great 
measure of stained glass ; the reforming zeal of the puritans 
having purged away all such abominations. There is a 
painted window representing Moses and the brazen serpent ; 
and another of the resurrection, by Eggerton of Birming- 
ham ; but like most of the productions of that artist I have 
seen, the drawing is bad. Two or three others are deserv- 
ing of still less praise. In the side aisles, there are a few 
marble knights cased in armour — a monument of the " Boy 
Bishop" — a splendid one of Somerset, the Lord Protector in 
the reign of Edward VI., and of his wife and children — one 
of Lord Stourton who was hanged for murder ! and a beautiful 
one of the Earl of Malmsbury, a statue in a reclining pos- 
ture, by Rysbach. The tower is said to be the highest in 
27* 



318 JOURNAL. 

the kingdom, it being about 400 feet in height, of which, the 
steeple is 190. It is stone to the top, yet the pillars on 
which it rests are so clustered and arranged as to appear 
light and airy. " The Cloisters" attached to the cathedral 
enclose a quadrangle ; and, unUke the main building, are 
richly decorated with carving. They open on one side into 
the Chapter-house, an octagonal building so full of large 
windows as to resemble a green-house. Its roof is support- 
ed by a light pillar rising gracefully in the centre. I attend- 
ed the cathedral service, which is pretty well performed ; 
but as in most cathedrals, few were present to witness it. 

Salisbury is very indifferently built, and has a mean and 
poverty-stricken look. The best streets in it are barely de- 
cent, and are situated in the immediate neighbourhood of the 
cathedral. The Avon, the third river of that name I have 
seen in the island, traverses the city. It is a clear, pleasant 
stream, running over a gravelly bed. Among the public ed- 
ifices, three or four parochial churches, the prison, the in- 
firmary, and the council rooms, are next in point of appear, 
ance to the cathedral, but present little worthy of notice. 
The population of the place cannot exceed eight or nine 
thousand. About a mile and a half to the north-west, are 
the ruins of the castle, standing on the site of Old Sarum, 
and fast crumbling into decay under the hand of time. I 
was disappointed in not finding Salisbury situated in an ex- 
tensive plain. It stands in a valley of no great dimensions, 
which is bounded by hills of a gentle elevation. 

Friday, July 16th. This morning at eight, I took my seat 
on the London coach, in company with five or six other pas- 
sengers ; and we set off" in a copious rain, which continued 
half the way to London. By no contrivance could the um- 
brellas be adjusted so as to form a complete roof The rain 
spouted from one to another, and at length found its way into 
our laps in very ample streams. However, we forgot our 
troubles in a spirit of good humour and mutual accommoda- 
tion — qualities, which I have universally met with among 
the travelling companions whom chance has thrown in my 
way. Our road lay, for the most part, over bleak downs. 



RETURN TO LONDON. 319 

cultivated here and there in patches, but generally waste 
and occupied by shepherds. Near Andover, we passed 
Hurstborn Park, a noble mansion on the left, the property 
of the Earl of Portsmouth. The whims of this demented 
nobleman, while they excite commiseration, are sometimes 
unaccountably queer. When any one dies in the parish, it 
is said that he tolls the bell and walks behind the body at the 
funeral ; and has fairly got the office of grave-digging into 
his own hands. This he calls " the black job." How do 
the facinations of exalted rank and wealth disappear, when it 
is seen that they afford no protection against misfortunes and 
infirmities like these ! A herd of deer, amounting it is said 
to eight hundred, were grazing in the park, which extends 
for a mile or two along the road. We passed through 
Whitechurch, Basing-Stoke, Hartfordbridge, and Blackwa- 
ter, the latter the seat of the new Military School on Bag- 
shot Heath. This is a large establishmeut, under the pat- 
ronage of government ; and the range of buildings for the 
accommodation of the cadets presents quite a collegiate ap- 
pearance. I counted thirteen houses, built in a uniform 
style, and occupied by the professors of the school. Bag- 
shot heath is now partly enclosed and planted with fir-trees. 
It is a wide expanse of undulating surface ; and the uninclos- 
ed spaces are covered with the prickly furze, a most uncom- 
fortable looking shrub. Just before we came to Egham, 
Cooper's Hill, immortalized by Denham the poet, appeared 
on our left ; and soon afterwards. Runny-mead, the birth- 
place of Magna Charta. It is a low meadow or mead, of 
considerable extent ; and the spot where the timorous John 
set his hand to the instrument of English liberty, is indica- 
ted by a small monument of stone, not unlike a Roman altar. 
We crossed the Thames at Stains, about sixteen miles from 
London ; and passing a number of splendid country seats and 
villas, arrived in London just before sunset. 

Sunday, July 18th. I attended worship in the morning at 
the Rolls Chapel, Lincoln's Inn, where I heard the service 
very well performed, and a highly respectable sermon deliv- 
ered by a Mr. Raymond. It was faithful, practical, and 



S20 JOURNAL. 

could scarcely fail of doing good, if mixed with faith in those 
who heard it. The chapel is very neat, and the finishing 
and pews finely carved in oak. Prophets and saints of the 
Old Testament fill compartments of the windows on one side ; 
and the twelve apostles appear on the other. The large 
windows in the end contain also a variety of coats of arms in 
stained glass. This chapel, like the Temple church, is a 
place of worship for professional men of the robe. Their 
demeanour was highly decorous, if not remarkably devout. 
In the afternoon, I threaded the mazes of the city to the 
northward of the Bank, in search of the church of the Aus- 
tin Friai's — a task not easily executed without a guide. This 
is a plain but very antique church, once attached to a reli- 
gious house ; and is now occupied by a few French protest- 
ants. The service was in that language. The clergyman 
was quite a young man, and read the prayers in rather a mo- 
notonous tone, but v/ith devotion. There were no respons- 
es, and no sermon. In the evening, I went to St. Clements, 
Danes, where I found a thin congregation, and heard a tedi- 
ous sermon from Mr. G. — the younger. 

I am still struck with the silence and good order of the 
streets of the metropolis on Sunday. It indicates a healthful 
feeling among the mass of the people in regard to sacred 
things ; for the decorum is such as could not be enforced 
ro.erely by a police. It is true there is a good deal of prom- 
enading in Hyde Park on Sunday afternoon ; but the same 
decorum is observable there, which is visible in the throngs 
that are seen moving to or from the house of God. It argues 
well of the moral state of the population at large, when those 
who are disposed to violate the sanctity of the Lord's day, 
are obliged by publick opinion to conceal their irregularities 
from observation. Judging by what meets the eye, the day 
of rest is not better observed in the cities of New-England, 
than in the city of London. The people here are evidently 
a church-going people ; and there is a propriety and decen- 
cy in their behaviour in the sanctuary, which cannot fail to 
make a favourable impression, and which, so far as my ob- 
servation has extended, is universal. It is in vain to say, that 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 321 

this may be all formality — that this decent exterior may be 
maintained, without supposing any very deep or universal 
spirit of piety. It may be true in individual cases ; but can- 
not be true of any community in the mass. Nothing but a 
general and heart-felt sense of religion can long support a 
reverent attention to the externals of publick worship such as 
evidently exists in this vast metropolis, and every where 
meets the observation of a stranger. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY CHAPEL OF HENRY VII. POEt'S CORNER MONU- 
MENTS OF ADDISON, SHAKSPEARE, HANDEL, &C. REMARKS EXCUR- 
SION TO RICHMOND SCENERY ON THE RIVER VIEVi^ FROM RICHMOND 

HILL VILLAGE THOMPSON'S GRAVE SUNDAY AT THE ABBEY, AND 

ST. MARY VVOOLNOTH PREPARATION TO LEAVE LONDON. 

July 22. — It is not in every state and mood of feeling, that 
one can visit Westminster Abbey to advantage. When he 
sets his foot under its arched portals^ he must abstract him- 
self from the living and moving realities of life : its every- 
day scenes, its bustle and business must be to him, at the 
moment, as though they were not ; or he will be disappoint- 
ed in the impressions he receives from treading among the 
dust of England's kings. Common ideas and the occurren- 
ces of the hour must be dismissed ; the chain which con- 
nects him with present material things must be severed, ere 
he can enter fully into the religio loci, and bring his mind 
into the attitude of musing and reflection, with which he 
would wish to survey this sanctuary of the illustrious dead. 
This, however, is no easy matter. The transition from the 
gay and bustling world without, to the dim and solemn scene 
within, is too striking and instantaneous, for the mind to be 
suddenly brought into unison with the recollections and ima- 
ges associated with the spot. In addition to this, the visiter 



S22 JOURNAL. 

has to encounter annoyances, which tend very much to dis- 
pel the illusions in which he is beginning to indulge. What 
he has read of Westminster Abbey has led him to anticipate 
a scene of solemn repose, of seclusion and silence, favoura- 
ble to meditation. He enters ; but the noise and din of a 
thronged meti-opolis, the rattling of wheels, and the voices of 
the busy multitude, follow him ; and he wonders what has 
become of the enthusiasm he expected to feel. Then, again, 
bis attention is perplexed by the crowds of visiters promena- 
ding among the tombs ; and by the officiousness of the guide, 
seemingly anxious to point out every thing worthy of notice ; 
but in reality only studying how to beguile him along from 
object to object, and to get rid of him as soon as possible. 
In short, it is not till after repeated visits, that he can abstract 
himself from these incidental matters, and fall into that train 
of musing and reverie, which the objects around are so well 
calculated to produce. 

To attempt a description of what has been so often and so 
well described, must be needless ; nor is it easy to moralize, 
with any chance of being read, in a place, where Addison 
and Irving have mused with so much solemnity and pathos. 
Most assuredly, there is no place on the earth, where so many 
striking mementos are assembled, or which conveys a more 
forcible impression of the truth of the poet's reflections — 

The glories of our blood and state 
Are shadows, not substantial things ; 
There is no armour against fate ; 
Death lays his icy hand on kings. 

Sceptre and crown 

Must tumble down, 
And in the dust be equal made 
With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 

Beneath the pavement repose the ashes of a long line ot 
kings and queens, warriours " which caused their terror in 
the land of the living," statesmen, philosophers, poets : 

Hie man us ob patriam pugnando vulnerapassi ; 
Quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebat ; 
Quique pii vates, et Phoebo digna locuti ; 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 323 

Inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes ; 
Quique eui memores alios fecere merendo* — 

A congregation of mighty dead, sleeping each in his narrow 
house, till " the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be 
raised incorruptible." I know not that I was more impres- 
sed by any thing I observed, than by seeing the initials of the 
names of the rival statesmen, Pitt and Fox, rudely cut in the 
flagging, at a few feet distance from each other. The noble 
monuments erected to their memory, in other parts of the 
Abbey, do not strike with half the force of these simple me- 
morials, pointing out the identical spot where their ashes lie. 
No description can do justice to the magnificence of Hen- 
ry Seventh's chapel. The carving and tracery, both in stone 
and wood, are rich beyond conception ; and art and skill 
seem to have been exhausted, in decorating the tombs of the 
royal sleepers. But what does it all amount to ? 
Can storied urn, or animated bust, 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 

Why should I be solicitous whether my " earthly house of 
this tabernacle be dissolved" within consecrated walls, or in 
a lonely church-yard, when I reflect that my spirit must re- 
turn unto God who gave it ? — This chapel having been de- 
signed as a royal sepulchre, none have hitherto been buried 
in it but those, whose descent could be traced from some of 
the ancient kings. 

In the Poet's Corner, the monumental statue of Addison 
will continue to be an attractive object, while genius and 
taste are held in honour. The sight of it naturally reminds 



*Virg. JEn. VI. 660. Dryden's translation, though more faithful 
than poetical, is here subjoined. 

Here patriots live, who, for their country's good, 
In fighting fields were prodigal of blood : 
Priests of unblemished lives here make abode. 
And Poets worthy their inspiring god ; 
And searching wits of more mechanic parte. 
Who grac'd their age with new-invented arts ; 
Those, who to worth their bounty did extend, 
And those, who knew that bounty to commend. 



324 ^ JOURNAL. 

one of Tickell's Elegy on the death of the moralist, " If 
dumb too long," 6cc., one of the most plaintive and touching 
elegies the language affords. The monument of Craigs, the 
intimate friend of Addison, stands at the west end of the 
nave. In their deaths, they were scarcely divided ; — 

And Craigs in death to Addison succeeds. 
The monuments in the Poet's Corner present by no means an 
imposing appearance, if considered merely as works of art. 
They generally derive their interest from the illustrious 
names they commemorate. Those of Shakspeare and Han- 
del are designed however with much felicity. The former 
is a statue of the poet, holding in his hand a scroll partially un- 
rolled, on which is inscribed the well-known speech of Pros- 
pero in the Tempest, — " The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous 
palaces," &c. The passage derives new force and beauty 
from " the solemn temple" in which the spectator stands, 
and which, with its solid buttresses and fretted aisles, is 
doomed to dissolution among the fires of the last day. The 
monument of Handel is also a full-length statue, leaning on 
a table covered with musical instruments. He is looking up- 
ward ; and on the scroll depending by his side, is inscribed 
the divine solo from the Messiah, — " I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth." 

Crossing over to the northern aisle of the Abbey, the 
spectator is lost in a wilderness of monuments, some of 
which are well worthy of attention, while others were erect- 
ed to commemorate names of which the world never heard. 

O fond attempt to give a deathless lot 

To names ignoble, born to be forgot ! 

Why should mausolea of children find a place here, merely 
because they were of noble descent, or because the families 
were sufficiently wealthy to purchase a niche in this temple 
of worthies ? The monument of Pitt loses its effect by its 
too great elevation, it being placed over the great western 
door. Chatham's is better situated ; and if elegance con- 
sisted in the quantity of marble employed, this would stand 
pre-eminent. The great fault of the works of modern Eng- 
lish statuaries is, that the features are passionless and vacant ; 



MONUMENTS. 



325 



a fault which appears to indicate a want of genius for the 
art. The productions of Bacon's chisel are singularly de- 
ficient in this respect. His figures on the monument of Fox 
— Brittania receiving the expiring patriot in her arms, are 
totally devoid of meaning. The guardian genius appears 
as unmoved, as though she held a log of wood. The person- 
ification of Death, in the monument of Lady Nightingale, 
has been much and justly censured as a departure from 
good taste ; for it is not every poetical personification which 
will bear to be represented instatuary. Setting aside, how- 
ever, the defect in the design, nothing can be more beautiful 
than the execution. There is as much of eager joy in the 
face of the skeleton-archer, as can be expressed in a bony 
visage ; and the anxious husband, receiving the fainting form 
of his wife, and striving to protect her from the fatal dart, 
presents a most admirable picture. The female figure is 
eminently beautiful. The drapery hanging on the skeleton, 
and protruded here and there by the angular bones, is won- 
derfully light, and wrought with such skill, that the marble 
folds appear to be transparent. But a description of the 
monuments worthy of particular study would be as endless, 
as it must be uninteresting to the reader. 

How vain and profitless does human glory appear, when 
studied among these mouldering tombs ! And wherein does 
the dust they contain differ from that of the undistinguished 
dead ? Faith anticipates the day, when " all that are in their 
graves shall hear the voice of the Son of Man, and shall 
come forth ; they that have done good to the resurrection of 
life, and they that have done evil to the resurrection of dam- 
nation." The proceedings of that day will level the artificial 
distinctions, which now place men at so wide a distance 
from each other ; and the prize of our high calling will be 
awarded, not to the wise, the mighty, and the noble, but only 
to the best. 

July 23d. — After breakfast this morning in company with 
an American friend, an excursion up the Thames to Rich- 
mond was proposed and joyfully acceded to. The day was 
most delightfi^l — we had a joyous party of citizens and their 
families on board, going to rusticate themselves for a few 
28 



326 JOURNAL. 

hours on the breezy hill of Richmond — the Thames wa» 
alive with boats hurrying to and fro ; and a very passable 
band of music, playing on the forecastle of the steam-boat 
in which we had embarked, contributed to the exhilaration 
inspired by the scene. The beautiful objects which were 
revealed in succession, as we sailed up the river, were num- 
berless--Chelsea Hospital, Fulham, Kew Gardens, Zion 
House, &c., appearing among the most prominent. But the 
pride of this far-famed river is Richmond Hill, with its lawns 
and villas sloping down to the waters edge. All this glory 
bursts upon the view immediately on passing the bridge, 
where a slight bend in the river presents a succession of 
agreeable objects to the best advantage. The tide being fa- 
vourable, the boat proceeded up the stream as far as Twick- 
enham, and landed the party on a little island furnished with 
summer-houses, tents, gardens and walks, for the recreation 
of the pic-nic parties by which it is much frequented. Af- 
ter making the tour of the island, which proved to be no 
very fatiguing exploit, we rowed down the river a little dis- 
tance, and were set ashore at " Hani's embowered walks." 
Nothing can be more delicious than the situation of the villas 
on the sloping bank, overhung by the fine oaks and elms 
which tower aloft from the side of the hill. Following a 
winding walk which led us through a variety of sylvan 
scenes, we emerged into the Park, a royal demesne eight 
miles in circumference, and containing upwards of two thou- 
sand acres. On the highest point of land, a noble house of 
entertainment has been erected, commanding, from its bow 
window in the third story, one of the finest and most luxuri- 
ant prospects in the world. As we looked down into the 
long, serpentine valley, 

^ " Where slowly steals the winding wave ;" 

and the eye ranged over its osier beds, its clumps of trees, its 
"dry, smooth shaven greens" and gravelled walks,. with 
here and there a boat lightly skimming the glassy surface of 
the river it was impossible not to approve the taste of the 
poet which led him to select this as the scene of one of the 



RICHMOND HILL. 327 

most enchanting descriptions in his *' Summer." The land- 
scape is finely varied with hill and dale, and every where 
clothed with a deep verdure. At a distance to the westward, 
"majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow" in fair relief; 
and in the other direction, the dome of St. Paul's, " in shape 
and stature proudly eminent " above the mass of London, 
presents a bold and striking object even at the distance of nine 
miles. Indeed, the mighty bulk of that noble structure can- 
not be properly estimated, until it is seen at a distance, 
when the eye has an opportunity of measuring it by the sur- 
rounding buildings. 1 believe I have already remarked, that 
the foliage of the trees in England is particularly dense and 
verdant. The branches are ramified into an innumerable 
multitude of small twigs, each one clothed with abundance 
of leaves, giving to the tree the appearance of being carved 
out of a mass of verdure. The cause is probably to be 
sought in the humidity of the atmosphere, and the absence 
of scorching suns. English trees have not the light and 
feathery appearance of those which crown our New-England 
hills ; and, viewed as objects of mere taste, and ornaments of 
a landscape, are perhaps less pleasing to the eye. 

After dinner at the " Star and Garter," for which we 
paid a little less than five dollars although it consisted of but 
a single dish of roast beef, we descended the hill to tbe vil- 
lage of Richmond, and got admission into the parish church. 
Here is the grave of Thompson the poet. He was buried in 
the north-west corner of the church ; and the place of his in- 
terment is denoted by a brass tablet on the wall, bearing an 
appropriate inscription. His monument is erected in the 
Poet's corner at Westminster Abbey. After seeing all 
which was worth seeing in the village, we were taken up by 
the boat at the bridge, and reached town about eight in the 
evening. The regulations in regard to steam-boats, although 
not very convenient for the passenger, are curious, as illus. 
trative of the monopoly claimed by the boatmen of the 
Thames. No steam-boat which plies up and down the river 
is allowed to come to the wharf to receive its passengers. 
On going on board in the morning, we were surpised'to see 



328 



JOURNAL. 



ours anchored in the middle of the stream. On asking our 
waterman the reason, he repUed with some warmth, — " why 
they might as well allow us no privileges at all." The 
Thames was once their sole property, and they naturally 
consider the steam-boats as interlopers, and look upon them 
with no veiy friendly eye. Government has therefore inter- 
; posed, and compromised between oars and steam, by forbid- 
ding the latter to approach the wharf; thus securing to the 
waterman his fee for transporting passengers on board. 
Every body is privileged here, I beheve, except the traveller, 
and at his expense. A lad places a plank to assist you in 
getting into the skiff, for which he expects a trifle ; the water- 
man demands three pence for rowing you twenty yards, and 
sixpence, if the distance exceeds it by a few steps. You 
pay your fare on board the steam-boat, and suppose your 
account with your purse settled. No — the musicians come 
round with their box. " We have no other way of getting 
our living, sir;" — and you drop in your sixpence with the 
rest. Finding your surtout troublesome, you give it to the 
steward, who throws it across the railing ; and for this piece 
of service he expects sixpence. You disembark, and re- 
embark, and disembark again, on the same terms as before ; 
and whether you sit still, or travel, by land or by water, your 
pockets are like the buckets of the daughters of Danaus. 

July 24th. — The morning's paper gave me the first intel- 
ligence of an alarming fire last night in Chancery Lane, not 
twenty rods from my present lodgings. Two or three houses 
were burnt ; one life was lost, and a number of the inmates 
were injured by jumping from the windows. A person in 
London hears fewer alarms of fire in his life-time, than a cit- 
izen of New- York does in a year. Here, they attract the 
attention of the firemen only ; while with us, particularly in 
our smaller cities, the outcry raised is as stupid as it is need- 
less. An alarm of fire is a perfect holiday for the boys, and 
seems to put every body beside themselves. 

Sunday, 25th. — I attended church at Westminster Abbey 
in the morning, and heard, what I expected to hear, the ca- 
thedral service finely performed. The discourse was neither 



ST. MARY WOOLNOTH. 329 

very eloquent, nor very lucid in its doctrines ; yet the people 
were attentive. The cathedral service. is generally perform- 
■ed in the Abbey churches, as well as in the Minsters ; but 
neither of them are parochial churches, or have regular con- 
gregations attached to them. The audience is composed of 
strangers and casual visiters. 

In the afternoon, I walked to St. Mary Woolnoth, of which 
the late Rev. John Newton was Rector. Here, I found a 
very crowded and attentive congregation. It is strange what 
an interest is communicated to a house of worship, by the 
fact, that it was once the scene of an eminent and faithful min- 
ister's labours ; for such was the character of the Rev. John 
Newton. The present Rector, Mr. Pratt, is a very engaging 
preacher, although rarely eloquent in a high degree. His man- 
ner has more of solemnity, perhaps, than of force. He 
uses no notes — discourses with fluency, and has a free and 
happy command of Scriptural language. His sermon was 
plain, practical, and apparently well adapted to the charac- 
ter of the audience. 

July 27th. — After a variety of delays, and some vexations 
at the Alien Office, at which I ought to have presented my. 
self on my first arrival in London, I have got my passport, and 
am just leaving the city, where I have spent seven or eight 
months, certainly with much satisfaction, and not, I would 
hope, without some little profit. I must leave it with the read- 
er to form his own judgment of the impressions I have receiv- 
ed, of the various interesting objects which have fallen un- 
der review. General deductions are little regarded in the 
journal of a traveller. It has rather been my aim to describe 
what 1 saw and what I heard, with fidelity ; and to allow the 
reader to form his own conclusions. 

28* 



330 JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 



RIDE TO BRIGHTON — NAKEDNESS OF THE COUNTRY BRIGHTON ROVAIi 

PAVILION CHAIN PIER STEAM-BOAT PASSAGE TO DIEPPE VEXA- 
TIONS ON LANDING HOTEL DU ROI d'aNGLETERRE TOWN AND HAR- 
BOUR OF DIEPPE COSTUME OF INHABITANTS CASTLE DEPARTURE 

FOR ROUEN. 

July 27th. — After discharging an enormous bill at Dicks, 
paying for some things which I had not, and roundly for those 
I had ; I took coach, and arrived at Brighton at six in the 
evening. For one quarter of the distance, the road was good ; 
through another it was indifferent ; and the remaining half 
may be described under the comparative and superlative 
degrees of badness. An hour was consumed in delays ; 
and after we had fairly got out of London, which requires 
more than a Sabbath days journey, we began to ascend the 
Surrey hills, and to feel ourselves once more in the country. 
This part of the ride offers many interesting views of rural 
scenery ; and the peeps into the briad valley of the Thames 
are occasionally extensive, as well as richly diversified. 
Brixton was the first village of note which lay on our route, 
and owes its celebrity to the fact, that the tread-mill was here 
first introduced into the penitentiary. Streatham, Croydon, 
and other little hamlets were thinly scattered along the road ; 
but there was, on the whole, no appearance of a superabun- 
dant luxuriance in the fields, or of a dense population on the 
roads. One is indeed surprised to see so ihany Downs and 
barren heaths in the southern parts of England. We expect 
to find every where a soil, if not rich by nature, at least ren- 
dered so by cultivation, and supporting a numerous popular 
tion ; but this is far from being the fact. For one third of 
the distance betv/een London and Brighton, the road lies over 
tracts of barren country, much of which is unenclosed, and 
the little which is cultivated yielding but a scanty reward for 
the husbandiTtian's toil. The latter part of the ride was over 



BRIGHTON. 331 

a remarkably fine road, winding along between the hills of 
the South Downs, which are generally barren of vegetation, 
but affording here and there a shady nook, and a cultivated 
patch, agreeably contrasted with the surrounding desolation. 
Brighton is approached from London between two of these 
naked hills, and is invisible until you are just entering the 
suburbs. The town is built principally on two or three streets 
running parallel with the shore, and in the ravine by which 
it is entered froni the country. In the midst of the area of 
level ground formed by the opening of the hills, and at a short 
distance from the shore, stands the "Royal Pavilion," a 
humble imitation of a Turkish palace, surmounted by a dome, 
in shape not unlike a huge inverted balloon. " Great princes 
have great play-things ;" and the taste of his present Majes- 
ty leads him to take much of his pastime in brick and mor- 
tar. Why he has deigned to honour Brighton above all other 
watering places in his dominions, it is difficult to say. The 
spirit of barrenness seems to have enthroned himself on the 
neighbouring hills, which are almost wholly naked of every 
kind of verdure. The shore is a chalky bluff, commanding 
a good view of the channel ; and the " Terrace," a broad 
street running along the top of the bank, affords a pleasant 
promenade in the cool of the day. The bathing is indiffer- 
ent, owing to the very gradual slope of the bottom into deep 
water. An uncouth covered box, mounted on four clumsy 
wheels, is drawn out into the sea. In this, the bather takes 
his passage ; and plunges in, when the vehicle has arrived at 
a sufficient depth of water. Between the Pavilion and the 
sea, there are two or three enclosed grass plots, which are 
much used as promenades. These, and the Terrace, are 
now thronged in the evening, as the town is filling up with 
company. Brighton seems to abound in fine women. In 
no part of the island have I seen so many fresh complexions, 
and such a general appearance of health. The Circulating 
Libraries are favourite places of resort in the evening, where 
there is a due mixture of cards, musick, and conversation. 
In fine weather, there is much riding out in donkey phaetons, 
and on Welch ponies ; but the visiters seem to be not a little 



S82 JOURNAL. 

straitened in their resources for killing time. Sea-water is 
pumped up for sprinkling the streets by a vertical tread- 
wheel, turned by a horse which travels on the inner circum- 
ference. As for harbour, there is none ; and a stranded 
brig, another at anchor, and a sloop, constitute the whole 
marine of Brighton. The style of building is rather gaudy, 
and displays a good deal of Nashional taste. Many of the 
houses are built of vitrified bricks ; and those on the Terrace 
have generally bow windows looking out towards the sea. 
The Royal Stables, also built in the Oriental style of archi- 
tecture, are next in importance to the Pavilion as objects of 
curiosity. The dome of the Riding School, composed al- 
most wholly of glass, is quite worthy of notice. 

Brighton, judging from what I have been able to see of it, 
is not unlike other places of mere amusement ; a scene of 
idleness and ennui — a haunt of dissipation, both high and 
low — a vanity fair for pleasure-hunters and gamblers, and 
whatever is worthless in society. It owes all its present pros- 
perity to the preference given to it by the reigning monarch; 
and will probably sink into oblivion when he ceases to live, 
or when his fancy takes another turn. The number of un- 
finished buildings is almost equal to the inhabited ones ; and 
a suspicion has already gone abroad among the people that 
they are going on too fast. Indeed the tide of prosperity is 
already beginning to ebb, since the king has diverted his at- 
tention to reforming the architecture of Windsor palace. 
Since his accession to the throne, his visits to this place 
have been few and far between — his favourite residence is 
Windsor. In no place in England have I seen such throngs 
of worthless fellows as here. 

Ainong the curiosities of the place, must be mentioned 
the chain pier. This is a species of bridge laid on piles driv- 
en into the mud, and suspended by chains stretched from 
one pier to another. It extends about one third of a mile 
into the channel, which deepens very gradually from the 
shore ; and terminates in a platform of considerable extent^ 
This is also supported by piles resting in the mud. It has been 
injudiciously paved with heavy flagging-stone, the weight of 
which has disposed the supporting timbers to get rid of their 



DEPARTURE FOR DIEPPE. 



333 



burthen by a movement down the channel. As an expedi- 
ent to keep the pier in its place, an anchor has been cast at 
a distance in the opposite direction, to which the timbers are 
moored by a chain cable. The bridge is a favourite prom- 
enade with the visiters' at Brighton, and is certainly a very 
inviting place for enjoying the breezes from the ocean. A 
toll of two pence is taken from each person at the foot of the 
bridge ; and so great is the throng of pedestrians, that £70 
have sometimes been taken in a day. 

Having spent a day or two in rambling about the streets 
of this uninteresting town, and the desolate hills which en- 
compass it on the land side, I am waiting for the boat which 
crosses to-morrow to Dieppe. 

July 28th. After paying a moderate bill at t^ie " Royal 
Pavilion Hotel," and getting my passport countersigned, I 
repaired to the pier at eleven, the hour of sailing ; but 
eleven came, and scarcely half our freight was on board. 
The deck being twenty feet lower than the pier, carriages, 
horses, trunks, «Sz;c., were swung off and lowered down by a 
crane, furnished with a windlass, and a suitable combination 
of mechanical powers. At last, we shoved off about noon, 
having a motley deck cargo of horses, carriages, dogs, and 
other appendages of gentlemen travellers, and leaving at 
least a thousand spectators on the pier and bridge gazing 
after us. What ennui must possess these hunters after 
amusement, to take so much interest in the departure of a 
steam-boat ! We crept along at a snail's pace, not at all 
answerable to the celerity promised by the name inscribed 
on our stern — " The Rapid." Twice we stopped, and lay 
floating in gurgite vasto, while the engineers hauled out the 
clinkers, and actually extinguished the fire. The coal, it 
seems, was bad ; and instead of generating steam, only 
fused, and ran together in a solid mass on the grate of the 
furnace. At sunset, when we ought to have been in our 
hotel at Dieppe, the coast of Normandy was barely visible ; 
and it was eleven o'clock when we hauled up by the quay, 
instead of making the run in eight hours, ^ as the hand-bill 
flatteringly announced. Here we lay full half an hour. 



334 JOtJRNAL. 

waiting the arrival of Mons. le Commissaire de Police ; while 
a number of gens d'armes paraded to and fro, to see that 
nobody dared to set foot upon the quay. The condition of 
some of the passengers, particularly the females, was truly 
pitiable, afflicted as they had been with the maladie de la 
mer, and shivering in the night air. Some scolded — some 
complained — the Frenchmen jabbered, and John Bull gave 
vent to his impatience in execrations on the police ; but 
there was no moving till the great man came to take our 
passports. At length we were permitted to disembark, one 
by one, leaving all our baggage behind to go to the custom- 
house for inspection. Supposing we were now at liberty, we 
set off in pursuit of a hotel ; but the gentlemen of the sword 
had not yet done with us. We were conducted into a little 
office on the quay, where our pockets, hats, and boots were 
searched, to see that no contraband goods found their way 
into the imperial nation. This office is usually performed 
on th« ladies by police officers of their own sex, though I 
understand sometimes not. One of the gens d'armes is 
always at hand, to compose differences and enforce submis- 
sion. I had formed an acquaintance on the passage with 
an amiable young Englishman, who had formerly resided 
in Switzerland, and spoke French with perfect fluency. We 
adjourned to the " Hotel du Roi d' Angleterre," which is 
said in the antiquities of Dieppe to have been the chateau of 
the kings of England, when they held j)ossessions in Nor- 
mandy ; but I should apprehend that little of the original 
chateau is now remaining. However, the " Hotel of the 
King of England" is a magnificent name ; and the honour 
of sleeping in such a place might be deemed some compen- 
sation for the indifferent accommodations we met with. Our 
chamber was a comfortless looking apartment, paved with 
bricks. My bedstead was propped up at one end by a billet 
of wood ; that of my companion was in no better plight. 
These, and a rickety chair and an old chest, cpnstituted the 
only furniture of our sleeping apartment, in the " Hotel of 
the King." 

The next morning, July 29th, we sallied out before break- 



DIEPPE. 335 

fast, and rambled through the town. It needs no records of 
its antiquity. The narrow streets — the projecting walls, 
sustaining in many instances a luxuriant vegetation in the 
crevices — the houses striped with wood and stucco — the 
steep roofs, and the general appearance of decay — all refer 
to a time at least as remote as the Henry's. The entrance 
into the river Arques is barely wide enough to admit a single 
ship, and has a wall on the left, of hewn stone, rising thirty 
feet higher than the water at low tide. This narrow passage 
soon expands into a basin of very convenient size, around, 
and in front of which, stands the town of Dieppe. The 
whole basin, at ebb tide, is nothing but mud, with the excep- 
tion of a narrow channel formed by the river, a small, rapid 
stream. Near the head of the basin, on the quay, is the 
principal market place. We found it thronged ; and as I 
plunged into the crowd of buyers and sellers, the strange 
costume of the market-women, together with the foreign 
language I heard, combined to produce a lively impression 
that I was now in a land of strangers. An American in 
England scarcely feels that he is not at home. The lan- 
guage he hears, the objects he sees, the style of the build- 
ings and the furniture of the houses, are all so much like 
what he has been accustomed to in the cities of the United 
States, that he is easily beguiled into a forgetfulness that he 
is no longer in his native land. This delusion is dissipated, 
however, on crossing the channel. Here, every thing has a 
foreign aspect ; and nothing strikes his attention more forci- 
bly, than constantly hearing a dialect, to which his ear has 
been unaccustomed. The dress of the lower classes of the 
women is one of the first things which attract his observation. 
It consists of a cap, rising nearly two feet high from the 
crown of the head, with long broad flaps hanging down the 
back side of the neck ; and a short-gown and petticoat, the 
latter reaching half way below the knee. These garments 
are often of a scarlet colour, and extremely dirty. Coarse 
woollen stockings, red, yellow, or green ; and sabots, or 
clumsy wooden shoes, complete the nether part of their at- 
tire. As the cap forms the only covering of the head, in 



336 JOURNAL. 

the field or in the market, their faces are tanned into a tough, 
dingy looking parchment, although their natural complex- 
ions are a ruddy brown. In the peasant girls, whose faces 
have been less exposed, this is not (disagreeable, particularly 
when set off by a pair of sparkling black eyes. The fea- 
tures are generally spare, and the persons light and active. 

The town is surrounded by hills and chalky cliffs, with 
the exception of the part which looks towards the sea. The 
castle stands on^ a high hill in the rear of the town, which it 
overlooks, together with a wide expanse of ocean. It is too 
elevated to receive much injury from the guns of a naval 
force, to which its heavy batteries would prove very annoy- 
ing. From the bridge, too, there is a very pleasing rural 
prospect up the valley, through which the Arques flows in 
its course towards the harbour. The churches have the 
same appearance of antiquity, which is visible in the dwell- 
ings of the inhabitants. That of St. Jacques is a very an- 
cient structure, of blended Norman and Gothic, dark, heavy, 
and ill-proportioned. I observed hanging on the walls and 
pillars numerous votive offerings to " Our Lady," of vessels 
wretchedly painted, for her kind interference in preserving 
sailors from shipwreck. The general appearance of the town 
is picturesque ; but its streets are narrow and filthy, and dark- 
ened by the height and projection of the houses. The 
population is about 20,000. , 

Our breakfast was as meager as our sleeping accommoda- 
tions had been comfortless. Roasted rye, or some such ti'ash, 
supplied the place of veritable coffee ; for it seems the hotel- 
keepers have tried their impositions on English travellers 
with success. On demanding of the waiter, whether the 
beverage with which they were treating us was meant for 
coffee ? He replied withj the usual shrug, " Oui, Monsieur ; 
e'est caffe Anglois." We tried again, and got a mixture, 
in which English coffee however predominated. I got my 
trunk from the custom house by going two or three times 
for it, and paying two shiUings for having it ransacked ; 
procured a new passport for two francs, the original one 
having been sent on to Paris ; and about noon, mounted 
the Diligence for Rouen. , 



A DILIGENCE. 337 



CHAPTER XXXV. 



A FRENCH DILIGENCE — SETTING OFF HII-L OF ST. AUBIN COUNTRY 

— VALLEY OF MALAI'NAY THE SEINE ROUEN VIEW OF THE CITY 

CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF THE BENEDICTINES MENDICITY PEAS- 
ANTRY DINNER AT THE HOTEL DEPARTURE FOR PARIS PONTOISE 

ST. DENIS PARIS. 

An American, travelling in this country, finds amusement 
enough, for a stage or two, in contemplating the outre vehi- 
cle in which he is whirled along, and the equipments by 
which the horses are tied to it. The body of the Diligence 
— or more properly, the three bodies put together — cannot 
be less than sixteen or eighteen feet long, each compartment 
being covered so as to form a continuous roof for the lug- 
gage, and a station for passengers in a fair day, whence 
they have a fine view of the country. The timber employed 
in constructing the machine, would go far towards building a 
small barn. The driver's place is every where — sometimes 
on the dickey — ^then on the top — then on < ne of the wheel- 
horses ; and, in going up hill, two or three rods behind the 
diligence. The horse-gear is an indescribable composition 
of old scraps of leather, ropes, tow-strings, raw hide, chains, 
and bits of wood, put together as fancy or convenience dic- 
tate. The arrangements do not seem calculated for any 
particular number of horses ; but if the load requires an ad- 
ditional one, he is hitched on at any convenient place ; so 
that there are sometimes three or four abreast, or disposed 
along at different intervals. If a trace is too long, it is short- 
ened by tying knots ; if too short, it is spliced with a bit of 
rope or old bridle rein. Gear of such a description is ex- 
pected to be often giving way ; bat a breach is quickly re- 
paired. The most common place of the driver is on the 
wheel horse ; where, with a long whip made of a leather 
thong, and a rein or two from the mouths of the leaders. 



338 JOURNAL. 

pieced out of cords, strings, and leather straps, he manages 
his fiery steeds in a very Jehu-like style. 

All things being finally adjusted, we began to move ; a 
change of state not accomplished in a moment, considering 
that it depended on the unanimous consent of six or seven 
half-trained, ill harnessed horses ; and after lashing and 
cracking through a street or two, we got fairly under weigh, 
and swept along with portentous rapidity. By this time, 
however, traces and straps were trailing on the ground, the 
eflx>rt having proved too mighty for our rigging to withstand. 
Stopping was no easy matter with such a momentum as ours, 
but was at last accomplished ; and we hove to while the 
Conductor dismounted to repair damages. Similar acci- 
dents happened a dozen times before we reached Rouen, 
and the conductor as often ran back to look for some piece 
of broken gear, which had fallen off' in the hurly-burly — the 
piles of flint s^ones by the way-side always supplying a con- 
venient hammer for adjusting the iron work. 

Clearing the town by the suburb Barre', we began a long 
ascent up the hill St. Aubin, the summit of which commands a 
noble view of Dieppe and the channel, and of the country. 
The prospect towards the sea is peculiarly grand and imposing. 
The road lies along this elevated ground for a short distance, 
and then descends by a winding rout to St. Aubin-sur-Seye, a 
small straggling hamlet on the Seye, which is here little larg- 
er than a mill-stream. Our course now led us over a gently 
waving well cultivated country, adorned with hamlets, 
farm-houses and chateaux, presenting every where a neat, 
and often picturesque appearance. The country is better 
wooded than in England ; forests of considerable extent 
crown the distant hills ; and around the chateaux, the trees 
are generally disposed with a careful attention to mathemat- 
ical regularity. The wheat harvest has commenced, and 
the labour seems to be performed principally by the women. 
They are far more numerous in the fields than the men, and 
toil at the most laborious occupations. Wheat, oats, and flax 
were the crops which we most frequently observed. About 
eight or nine miles before we came to Rouen, we descended 



VALE OF MALAUNAY. 339 

by a steep winding road, into the beautiful valley of Malau- 
nay, through which runs the Cailly, turning the machinery 
of a long succession of cotton manufactories. This estab- 
lishment is said to give employment to many thousand ope- 
rators. High heathy hills rise on each side, leaving a valley 
between of half a mile in width for the mills, bleaching 
lawns, and cottages of the workmen. Most of the buildings 
are covered with white stucco ; and even the manufactories 
are ornamented with no little architectural taste. Contrast- 
ed with the green of the elms and lombardy poplars ; the 
smooth bleaching-lawns where, thickly interspersed, " the 
acacia waves her yellow hair ;" and with the brown, but va- 
ried hue of the hills in the back ground, they present a 
succession of pleasing and picturesque objects ; and I thought 
I had rarely seen a more beautiful valley than that of Ma- 
launay. The road winds along through it on the north bank 
of the river, which is overhung with trees, until you come to 
Yonville, situated in the same valley. Here, too, you have 
a rich view down the river, the majestic Seine appearing in 
the distance, with a few white sails slowly moving along 
among the trees. Indeed, the ride for many miles presents a 
succession of rural beauties, varying with every turn in the 
road ; and we not a little regretted the necessity of quitting 
the top of the diligence for the inside — Mons. le Conducieur 
informing us, that the regulations of the police did not allow 
passengers to occupy the roof. We were too sensible gf 
the indulgence he had shown us during the ride to dispute 
his orders, and contented ourselves with what we could see 
from the windows. Passing the barrier of Rouen, in the 
shape of a turnpike gate, where our luggage was overhauled 
by an ofiicer of the police, we entered the long, straight 
avenue of double rows of trees, by which the capital of Nor- 
mandy is approached on this side, having the noble Seine 
on the right. After a ride of a mile or two under this ar- 
cade, vrith numerous lamps suspended over our heads by 
ropes siretched across from tree to tree, we came upon the 
broad pived quay ; and turning up the Rue des Carmes, 



340 



JOURNAL. 



were deposited in the yard of the Hotel Vatel, about six in 
the evening. Distance from Dieppe thirtj^-nine miles. 

I am now writing in my well furnished chamber, on the 
third floor. A round marble table in the middle of the room, 
serves for a wash-stand. At one end is a recess, in which 
stands a bed, separated from the apartment by a moreen 
curtain ; and under my feet is an old tashioned floor of deal, 
of small pieces laid in a zig-zag form, and painted yellow. A 
row of tall, solid buildings of free-stone, with heavy cornices 
and mouldings, rises on the opposite side of the narrow 
street ; and the unceasing din of wheels, and the clatter of 
sabots, and the lively jabber of passengers, ascend in ming- 
led confusion irom below. My chamber is, on the whole, 
very comfortable. 

Friday, July 30th. Rouen, the capital of the conqueror 
of England, and now, " the first city of tho department of 
Lower Seine," stands on the north side of the river, which is 
here a little wider than the Connecticut at Hartford. It is a 
very beautiful stream. Before entering the city, it makes a 
sweep to the northward ; and on leaving it, turns again to 
the south, and runs along at the foot of a range of hills. A 
number of little islands, brightly verdant, arise out of the 
bosom of the stream, and greatly enrich (he scenery as view, 
ed from the neighbouring hills. At the east end of the city 
rises a perpendicular, chalky bluft", a hundred feet high, 
which commands one of the finest prospects imaginable ; the 
eye now resting on the dark mass of buildings below, the 
bridges, and quays thronged Mnth a busy population ; and 
then following the majestic sweep of the Seine, as it steals 
away and is lost in the distance, between the lofly hills 
which confine its waters. A broad paved quay extends 
iilong the whole length of the city, lined with shops on one 
side, and with the boats used in the river navigation on the 
other. These are of a singular construction ; and it is by 
no means obvious what peculiar advantage is derived from 
their lofty sterns, and rudders, in shape and size not unlike a 
barn door. Many of them were laden with charcoal and bil- 
lets of firewood. Opposite the Rue de Grand Pont is a 



ROUEN. ^^^ 

bridge of boats of ingenious mechanism, which is about to 
be superseded by a noble one of hewn stone. The city 
stands on a slope, ascending gently at first, but becoming 
quite steep as you approach the northern suburbs. It is en- 
vironed, indeed, by an ampitheatre of hills, which overlook 
every part of it. The Boulevard de Belle Voisine, or some 
such name, lies on one of these eminences ; and forms a 
beautiful promenade under its quadruple rows of elms. At 
one end is a spacious s<|uare, also thickly set with trees, 
which seemed to be a cattle market. Large piles of calves, 
tied by the legs, vt'ere lying on the ground, and bleating pit- 
eously under their tortures. The houses of Rouen are of 
all the fantastic shapes that were ever invented ; most of 
them are lofty, built of wood, and jutting over the narrow 
streets. Some of them must have been cotemporary with 
William the Conqueror. The mode of building these houses 
seems to have been, to erect a frame, composed of a great 
many pieces of timber fancifully arranged, and to fill the 
intervals with a wall, plastered on the outside. They are 
from three to five stories high. Those inhabited by the 
more wealthy are of free-stone, and very handsome : but the 
narrowness of the streets, having the water-course in the 
middle, and the absence of side-walks, give the place a dark 
and dirty appearance. The Rue des Carmes, in which rny 
hotel is situated, is one of the best built street.^, and leads up 
from the quay through the centre of the city. 

I had formed too high expectations of the cathedral of 
Rouen ; it has neither the size, nor lightness, nor magnifi- 
cence of most of the cathedrals in England. It was built 
by the Conqueror ; and must of course be near eight hun- 
dred years old. The front is in the richest style of ancient 
Gothic, and presents an abundance of bold tracery ; but 
one of the towers appears never to have been completed, 
nor was the other finished according to the original design. 
Indeed, the upper part by no means corresponds with the 
lower, in the style of its finishing, and was manifestly the 
work of a later and inferior architect. Some pretty good 
paintings adorn the walls within. There is no choir divided 
29* 



342 JOURNAL. 

off from the 'nave, as in the English cathedrals. The or- 
gan is placed over the great western door at the end oppo- 
site the chancel, so that the eye takes in the whole range 
at once, by which the effect of the architecture is greatly 
improved. The coloured glass is brilliant, but not remark- 
able for beauty of design or correctness of drawing. A few 
poor devotees were kneeling in difierent parts of the church, 
and busily engaged in counting their beads ; but for every 
worshipper, there were two or three beggars following the 
visiters about, and craving their charity in a whining tone, 
"for the love of Christ." These are found every where. 
They swarm in the corners of the streets, in the market 
places, and around the hotels ; but principally in and about 
the churches. The exterior of the cathedral is disfigured 
by the mean houses built against its walls, leaving nothing 
displayed but the front. — The church of the Benedictines 
has a noble tower ; and in point of size, is little inferior to 
the cathedral. Here, the same scene of beggary and devo- 
tion presented itself The view up and down the Seine from 
the Boulevards, is truly delightful. The Boulevards are an 
extension of the quay in both directions, and are planted with 
double rows of elm trees. 

The same singular costume v/hich is worn by the inhabi- 
tants of Dieppe, prevails here also, and throughout Norman- 
dy, having been handed down from a very remote age. 
This attachment to antiquated customs may be remarked 
in almost every thing, and effectually prevents all improve- 
ment among the peasantry. Their saddles are of a mon- 
strous size, and cover almost the whole back of the horse. 
Both ends are shaped alike, and rise so high as to render it 
an exploit of some difficulty to mount. A full-rigged bag. 
gage waggon is a curious spectacle. The harness contains 
leather enough for three of moderate strength ; and the poor 
horse is loaded about the head with a number of tassels of 
red or blue woollen yarn, literally as big as one's fist. The 
collar is stuffed to an immense size ; and a wide board pro- 
jects on either side, through which the reins are passed. To 
crown all, the back of the horse is covered with a large. 



DINNER AT THE HOTEL. 343 

shaggy rug, fringed and tasselled in a cumbrous style of 
ornament, tlie whole forming a most oppressive as well as 
unnecessary burthen to the wearer. Nothing could have 
been contrived, less adapted to the narrow streets of Rouen, 
than the carts employed in transporting articles of com- 
merce. The nave projects far out from the plane of the 
wheel, like a nine-pounder from the side of a privateer ; and 
it requires some address to squeeze by it, without getting 
marked with a streak of tar and grease, or being crushed 
against the wall. The same inattention to convenience, and 
determined hostility to improvement, is observable in the 
farming utensils. The ploughs, harrows, carts ; all the im- 
plements of husbandry, in short, which I have had an op- 
portunity of examining, are ill contrived, and of the rudest 
workmanship. No arguments would probably convince a 
Norman peasant, that he had twice as much timber in his 
plough as was necessary, and that it could run without 
wheels. 

At the hotel, the guests dine at a common table ; and not, 
as in England, in their own apartments. The French cer- 
tainly do ample justice to the multifarious dishes which are 
placed before them ; nor have I yet seen any thing to sup- 
port the popular opinion, that they live principally on soups. 
The company at dinner amounted to about forty ; and I 
never beheld a more sincere and active devotion to the con- 
tents of the various dishes. Judging by this single speci- 
men, they eat voraciously, and are far from stinting them- 
selves in the quantity they devour. Every man partook of 
nearly every dish, twelve or fourteen in all, in addition to a 
large quantity of soup, salad, bread and dessert. A dinner 
at a French hotel is no holiday for the waiters. The slovenly 
French knife is little used ; fingers and forks do every thing ; 
and the same knife and fork are used throughout without be- 
ing changed. 

On application at the office, I found all the inner seats of 
the Paris diligence occupied ; and was forced to go upon 
the top, or wait another day. At seven in the evening, I 
clambered up the side of the machine, which, with its pile 



344 JOURNAL. 

of luggage above, and the quantit)'^ slung beneath in a kind 
of shoe suspended from the bottom of the carriage, almost 
rivalled in size a cart-load of hay. There were sixteen or 
eighteen passengers within, and six on the top, including the 
Conductor, who is, in fact, the captain of the whole establish- 
ment. The postillion has nothing to do but manage the 
drove of horses, by which the ponderous vehicle is moved 
along. 

Leaving the city by tlie northern Boulevards, wc began 
to ascend b}- a zig-zag road ; and on reaching the top of the 
hill, bad another charming view of Rouen, and the beautiful 
scenery in its neighbourhood. It appeared to the greatest 
advantage, by the mellow light of a setting sun. Our route 
was diiicrent from any laid down in the itineraries. We 
soon left the Seine, and saw no more of it till our arrival at 
St. Denis early the next morning. About ten, we passed 
the village of Montagne and then dismounted to ascend a 
steep hill by a short cut, while the diligence gained the sum- 
mit, by a long circuitous route. We were nearly half an 
hour in reaching the top, whence I could observe, by the 
light of the moon, a widely extended prospect of hill and 
dale, while the fires of the village, and of the numerous 
iron-works, were glimmering far below in the valley. Here 
we found a neat cottage with a table spread, covered with re- 
freshments, of which we partook while waiting for the dili- 
gence. As the day dawned, we found ourselves travelling 
along an elevated ridge of land, which aflbrded a more exten- 
sive sweep of vision than any that had occurred on our route. 
We were now about thirty miles from Paris, yet Mount Va- 
lerian, only two or three miles from the metropolis, was dis- 
tinctly seen rising from the plain ; and over the wide expanse, 
lay a profusion of hamlets, cottages and chateaiix, just re- 
vealing themselves by the morning light. About sun-rise, 
we came to Pontoise, a village situated on the Oise, which 
we passed by a stone bridge ; and soon after, arrived at St. 
Denis. This place was formerly celebrated for its cathedral, 
against which, the revolutionary fury of tlie sans culottes was 
directed, because it contained the tombs of departed kings, 



PARIS. 345 

and the a«hf;9 of many illustrious dead. The cathedral was 
restored by liuonaparte, and presents a noble appeara,nce. 
St. Denis is only six miles from Paris, and stands on the 
bank of the river. From tiiis to the metropolis, the road Is 
of great width, and lies over a perfectly level and sandy 
plain. But little of the city is therefore seen as it is ap- 
proached from this quirter. About nine in the morning, we 
entered by the Barriere St. Denis, and were set down in a 
yard in the Rue du Bouloy. Distance from R/^uen ninety- 
seven miles. As soon as I could get my tnjnk disengaged 
from the chaos of travelling furniture beneath which it wa« 
buried, I repaired to the " Hotel Montmorency" in the Rue 
St. Marc, and provided myself with comfortable lodgings at 
a very moderate price. The previous day had been one of 
exercise and fatigue, and the night had been passed without 
sleep. I threw myself on the bed for an hour's repose be- 
fore going out ; and on waking after a nap, aa I supposed, of 
moderate length, wa.s surprised to find that it was near rnid- 
niffht. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 



PARIS — STREETS HABITS AND AMUSEMEXTS OF THE PARISIAXA THE 

BOULEVARDS TASTE IX THE FIXE ARTS GARDEXS OF THE THCIL- 

LERIES, OF THE LUXEMBOURG, OF THE PALAIS ROVAL -MOXTMAR- 

TRE VIEW FROM ITS SUMMIT DEFENCE AOAIXST THE ALLIED FOR- 

KES SCEN'E IX THE SUBURBS — DISREGARD OF THE LORo's DAV 

FETE OF THE A8HOMPTIOX CATHEDRAL OP NOTRE DAME MASS FOR 

THE DEAD. 

As dates are of little importance to the reader, it is unno- 
cessary to encumber my journal with them, in recording the 
observations I may make during my stay in the metropolis. 

Paris is seen at a great disadvantage by the traveller, who 
enters as we did by the port of St. DenLs. None of the pub- 



346 JOURNAL. 

lie edifices are situated on this road. Divest the city of its 
palaces, its gardens and monuments, and little remains to 
distinguish it from other large cities. The principal streets 
are long, very narrow, and very dirty. The gutter is usually 
in the middle, along which runs a little dirty stream from the 
public fountains, to be splashed on the passenger with its 
thick precipitate of filth. The feet of the horses operate 
like the paddles of a water-wheel, to distribute the black 
stream on the unlucky pedestrian, who is kept within point- 
blank distance by the narrowness of the way. In the few 
streets which have two gutters, the wheels of the numerous 
cabriolets perform the work of distribution with a facility and 
precision still more admirable. The stones, of which the 
streets are paved, are large round pebbles ; and, as side 
walks are unknown, the stranger is apt to experience some 
little inconvenience at first in his perambulations, from the 
roughness of the surface. Yet I have found walking over the 
pavements of Paris less fatiguing, than over the smooth flag- 
ging of the streets in London. The filthiness of the public 
ways is hardly reconcileable v/ith the excellence of the police 
regulations in other respects. Every kind of nuisance is 
empted into them during the night. This seems never to be 
wholly removed ; so that the passenger is often saluted with 
a compound of most unsavory smells in his morning walks. 
So much for the trivia of Paris. A stranger will do well to 
reject the advice usually given, to hire a cabriolet to take 
him to see the curiosities of the place. He may possibly 
make a little more speed, if speed is his object ; but he will 
lose a thousand opportunities of observation, which none but 
a pedestrian can enjoy. Let him make his excursions on 
foot ; let him thread the dai-k alleys and arcades — look into 
the shops and market-places, and examine every thing wor- 
thy of notice, and at his leisure ; if he wishes to collect in- 
formation, or find sources of amusement. 

The houses in the best built streets are usually four or five 
stories high ; and the material used is free-stone, almost 
without an exception. This is of a light cream colour, and 
is taken from quarries excavated beneath the city. The 



HABITS OF THE PARISIANS. 347 

general style of architecture is rather heavy, though not in- 
elegant ; and all the buildings, except those of very recent 
date, are browned with smoke and dirt. These defects are 
compensated, in the interior, by a redundancy of gilding, 
mirrors, and ornamental furniture, at least in the publick 
houses. The passion of the French for mirrors is unique. 
They are found every where — in their cafe's, in their restaur- 
ateurs, and their shops, and in every place where there is 
room to receive them. I have even observed the stairs of a 
cafe' lined in front with strips of plate glass, which an incau- 
tious step could not fail to shatter to pieces. 

The habit of the Parisians of living in public is a trait of 
national manners, which strikes the attention of every for- 
eigner. To see and be seen, is essential to the felicity of 
one of the inhabitants of the gay city. He is found every 
where, except at home. He breakfasts at a cafe — takes his 
luncheon in publick — dines at five at a restaurateur — goes to 
the Tlieatre at six — returns to a cafe' after the play, and 
goes to bed at midnight. The intermediate portions of time 
appear to be occupied with billiards, dice, and promenades. 
How these people support this round of idleness and amuse- 
ment, is a mystery. Nobody appears to be engaged in any 
gainful occupation, except the publick waiters, the trades- 
men, and the shop-keepers. Even the latter are seen with 
their families by thousands on the approach of evening, in 
the gai'dens of the Thuilleries and of the Luxembourg, about 
the walks of the Palais Royal, and on the bridges and quays. 
On a pleasant evening, I have counted four or five hundred, 
sitting in groups in the boulevards, within the distance of 
eight or ten rods. Here they resort, to sip their coffee and 
other light refreshments, brought from a neighbouring house 
of entertainment, and talk, and laugh at the jokes of some 
light-hearted merry-andrew exerting himself for their amuse- 
ment. It is surprising what droll characters exhibit on the 
boulevards, where they are always sure of spectators enough 
at the close of a pleasant day. Here, every kind of amuse- 
ment adapted to the taste of the lower classes, is going forward ; 
and if to excel in one's vocation is a test of merit, many of 



348 



JOURNAL. 



the artistes of the boulevards are worthy of all praise. Yet 
among the immense groups collected in these areas, I never 
beheld the least disorder. In England or America, there would 
be intoxication enough to set the whole mass in an uproar, 
and send the sober-minded away to their homes. Here, it is 
only a scene of calm and quiet amusement. The nostrils are 
not saluted at every step with the stench of gin and brandy ; 
nor the ear stunned with the obstreperous roar of vulgar de- 
bauch. There is a propriety, a decency, in these popular 
amusements of the Parisians, which does not exist else- 
where. Their passion for spectacles is, however, excessive 
and unique. They enter necessarily into their ideas of hap- 
piness. After the toil of the day is over, the tradesmen and 
mechanicks take their wives and families to the neighbouring 
boulevard, as naturally as people of the same class in Eng- 
land or America retire to their own firesides, to spend the 
evening in the bosom of their families. If the French have 
no correct idea of comfort, in our sense of the word, as some 
writers are fond of maintaining, they are certainly alive to 
enjoyment, which answers their purpose quite as well. 

The prevalence of a cultivated taste in the fine arts shows 
itself in all the articles of ornament, which are exhibited for 
sale in the shops. A chaste and classical style is observable 
in every thing. The Greek and Roman histories and mythol- 
ogies furnish innumerable subjects of design, which the artists 
seize and adapt to their purpose, with admirable judgement 
and skill. Every one has seen some proof of this, in the 
time-pieces and porcelain which find their way to the United 
States : but the shop of a Horologer is quite a magazine of 
classical antiquity. Heathen gods and goddesses, heroes, 
emperors and statesmen, in fine attitudes, and beautifully ex- 
ecuted in or-molu ; vases, urns, Grecian temples and triumph- 
al arches ; every thing, in short, which is calculated to grat- 
ify a classical taste, figure on mantel -pieces, and other arti- 
cles of ornamental furniture, where they can be admitted 
with propriety. The cup from which you sip your coffee is 
modelled after the most admired proportions of the Grecian 
vase ; the pitcher in your chamber is fashioned after the Ro- 



MONTMARTRE. - 349 

man urn : and your eaii de vie is poured into a glass, which is 
moulded into some one of the forms excavated at Herculane- 
um. In short, a refined taste is discoverable in almost every 
article, vv'hether for use or ornament. How the common 
artists have arrived at such a degree of perfection in the beau 
ideal, it is difficult to say. They have certainly left the Eng- 
lish and Americans far behind — not so much, perhaps, in the 
neatness of the workmanship, as in the beauty of design. 

The gardens attached to the palaces in and about Paris 
afford the most charming promenades for the citizens, to 
whom they are always open. Nothing can be imagined 
more agreeable in its kind than t]se garden of the Thuilleries, 
notwithstanding its formal regularity. You walk through 
long colonnades of trees, or among gay parterres of flowers ; 
you are refreshed with jets d'eau, which diffuse a delightful 
coolness through the shade ; and heroes and nymphs and 
demi-gods, in elegant sculpture, are your companions. The 
profusion of statuary in Paris is really surprising. How 
much do the fine arts here owe to the liberal taste of Louis 
XIV ! One is presented almost at every step with some no- 
ble monument erected during his reign. The gardens of the 
Luxembourg are little inferior to those of the Thuilleries in 
beauty, and superior in extent. Both are wholly artificial, 
and are laid out in broad, gravelled walks, lined with trees 
planted with the utmost attention to regularity. The gar- 
den of the famous Palais Royal is only a quadrangle, en- 
closed by the palace, planted with rows of dwarfish trees 
closely trimmed, and having a jet d'eau and basin in the cen- 
tre. Towards evening, and particularly on a Sunday, the 
concourse of people in these gardens is surprisingly great. 

Montmartre is a bold and steep eminence just without the 
Fauxburgs on the north side of Paris, and commands a view 
of almost every house in the city. I visited it one fine after- 
noon, in company with a young American, and gazed for 
some hours at one of the most magnificent spectacles in Eu- 
rope. All Paris lay at our feet with its palaces, and gardens, 
and glittering domes shining resplendantly in a clear sun, 
and the Seine easily traced for a long distance in both di- 
30 



350 



JOURNAL. 



rections. To the westward, the eye ranges over a long extent 
of cultivated valley; and a little farther south, the Bois de 
Boulogne, Mont Valerian, a steep conical hill crowned by a 
noble edifice, the Palace and park of St. Cloud ; and in the 
distance, the water-works of Marly, all appeared in view, 
amidst an agreeable succession of hill and dale. To the 
southward and across the Seine, the prospect is bounded by a 
low ridge of hills, v/hich begin to take their rise at no great 
distance from the city. Charenton, the Boia Vincennes, the 
Cemetery of Pere la Chaise on Mont Louis, appear in suc- 
cession to the south-east and east ; while to the northward, 
the view extends over a level country, in which the village of 
St. Denis forms a prominent object. Paris lies in a valley 
of gentle depression intersected by the Seine, which makes 
numerous turns and doublings to get in and out of it. What 
a contrast between the atmosphere of Paris, and that of Lon- 
don ! The former transparent as an American sky ; the latter 
foul as the dungeons of Vulcan. This difference is undoubt- 
edly to be attributed to the fact, that in Paris they burn little 
bituminous coal, except in a few manufactories. Wood and 
charcoal supply its place, with a great advantage in point of 
cleanliness ; although it is ^difficult to imagine whence the 
supply is derived to meet the consumption of so large a city. 
Montmartre is the highest of the semicircular chain of emi- 
nences, which environ Paris on the north ; and held out the 
longest against the attacks of the Rallied forces, in 1814. — 
The houses and windmills on its summit, perforated with shot, 
yet bear testimony to the sanguinary conflict. Here, a heavy 
battery of cannon was planted, which did great execution on 
the masses of Silesian infantry directed against it. In fact, 
this post was maintained after the French had been dislodg- 
ed from every other point of defence ; nor did it surrender, till 
the capitulation of Paris was resolved upon. It is naturally 
a strong military position ; but the fortifications on the south- 
ern slope of the hill seem better calculated to annoy the city, 
than to defend it against invaders. But the storm of war has 
long since rolled away ; and numerous parties of young peo- 
ple from the Fauxburgs were taking their refreshments on 



SUBURBAN REVELRY. 3^1 

the rustic seats, distributed around the brow of the hill. It is 
problematical how long a Frenchman would fast, if he had 
not spectators to see him eat and drink. We descended the 
hill on the eastern side among the quarries, at the risk of 
breaking our necks; and on reaching the Fauxburgs, our 
ears were saluted with the sound of rustic revelry and mirth. 
It proceeded from a spacious tavern, which might be taken 
either for a house or a barn ; and our curiosity induced us 
to mix with the crowds who were lounging about the door. 
Looking in at the window, a scene of low conviviality presen- 
ted itself, which would have convulsed Momus himself with 
laughter. An immense room browned with smoke, was fur- 
nished with a row of tables running quite around it, at which, 
in thick array, the guests, consisting of artizans, soldiers and 
serving men, in their holiday attire, were addressing them- 
selves vigorously to the feast. The room was low, and a huge 
iire blazed up on the hearth, where the process of cooking 
was going forv/ard — the windows were blocked up with heads 
— the day was hot — the meats and soups hot, and the air con- 
fined. Moustaches reeked with gravy — an atmosphere of 
tobacco smoke bedimmed the upper regions of the apart- 
ment ; and the strangest confusion of tongues issued forth, 
ex penetralibus. High on a throne enveloped in the murky 
cloud sat a band of fiddlers ; and in the space between the 
tables where the feast was at its height, the waltzers were 
toiling through the giddy maze. The ladies were mostly 
accommodated with partners in military coats, for 

" None but the brave deserve the fair" — 
But the fatigues of a campaign in the torrid zone could be 
nothing to this. Such sweltering, and labouring, and perspi- 
ring, in an affair of mere pleasure, were never seen before. 
One might judge by the grave and exhausted appearance of 
the fair, that, but for the high honour to which they had been 
called by the valiant sons of Mars, in being selected as part- 
ners of the dance, they would gladly have begged a tempo- 
rary suspension of operations. V/e left this amusing scene 
of suburban revelry, and returned to our hotel. 

There is little, in the appearance of Paris on a Sunday 



352 JOURNAL. 

morning, to remind one that it is a day of rest. The shops 
are generally open ; the markets are thronged as on other 
days ; carts, and drays, and al! sorts of vehicles designed for 
the transportation of merchandize ; are in motion ; buying 
and selling, and manual labour, proceed as usual ; there is 
rest neither for man nor beast. In the afternoon, the shops 
are generally closed ; labour is suspended, and the remain- 
der of the day is devoted to pleasure. Few of those who go 
to the churches, appear to have any other motive than amuse- 
ment. They walk about the aisles, gazing at the pictures, 
and listening to the solemn music of the mass ; and go away 
when they are tired. Those whom I have seen really enga- 
ged in worship appeared to belong to the lower classes ; and 
with the exception of these few, the persons j^ou see in church 
are merely spectators, attracted thither by curiosil}^, or to 
pass an idle half hour before they go to promenade in the 
gardens. If the mass were stripped of some of its mummery 
of the perpetual changes of posture, and of its frequent bow- 
ings and crossings, and waving of censers ; and above all, 
if it were performed in a language intelligible to the common 
people ; it could not fail to be an impressive service. As it 
is, the canting of the white-robed priests, accompanied with 
various instruments ; among which, the deep and mourning 
tones of the serpent, and the startling blasts of the trombone 
predominate ; with now and then a burst from the mighty 
organ of Notre Dame, cannot be listened to with indifference, 
by one who has an ear and a soul for solemn music. The 
churches in Paris swarm with beggars, whose importunities 
are excessively annoying. Experience has probably taught 
them, that the offices of devotion open the heart and hand to 
charity. 

Perhaps a more lively idea may be conceived of the man- 
ner in which Sunday is observed, or rather disregarded, in 
this gay city, by the following incidents, in which I was un- 
designedly implicated, than by any general remarks. By a 
mistake, which might naturally enougti occur to one journey- 
ing from place to place, and having his mind occupied by a 
variety of objects, I had lost a day in my reckoning, and Sun- 



FETE Of THK ASSOMPTION. 



353 



day came, when I supposed it to be Saturday. Having some 
business to transact, I breakfasted as usual at a cafe', and re- 
paired to the book-sellei-s, all of whose shops I found open. 
The streets and quays were thronged as at other times ; the 
stores were all open ; the market places were crowded with 
buyers and sellers ; and in no quarter did there appear the 
least cessation of business, to remind one of the day of rest. 
After being engaged till dinner-time, I went out in search 
of refreshment. The sound of labour was dying away — the 
tradesmen were closing their shops — the bells of Notre Dame 
were pealing forth, and large groups of well-dressed citizens 
were collecting in the gardens and Boulevards. Presuming 
that it might be the day of some festival in the Romish calen- 
der, I made enquiry, and was answered that it was Sunday ! 
The 15;h of August being the Fete of the Assomption, I 
had an opportunity of witnessing the processions, and the per- 
formance of high mass in the church of Notre Daine. The 
procession was made up of priests, in their rich robes and 
velvet caps — singing boys — crucifixes — wax tapers — the cro- 
sier of the Archbishop, and Mons. I'Arch Eveque himself, in 
a robe of embroidered gold, a golden mitre, and white satin 
shoes richly embroidered with gold. He is a handsome man 
of fifty years of age. He walked in the procession with his 
hands clasped on his breast ; his face, every muscle of which 
was motionless as a sleeping infant, a little upturned ; and 
his eyes directed towards the pavement. I will not trust my 
skill in physiognomy so far as to say, that the lines of his 
face are those of a man of pleasure ; and that the expression 
he endeavoured to throw into his looks was called up for the 
occasion. The great bell of the cathedral continued tolling 
while the procession lasted, the priests chanting at intervals, 
accompanied by various instruments, with now and then an 
explosion from the full organ, which made the vaulted ceiling 
of the temple echo. After marching up and down the aisles, 
and doubling and redoubling, till almost every foot of the 
pavement had been passed over, the procession entered the 
choir ; the tolling of the bells ceased, and high mass began. 

Notre Dame is a cathedral of considerably smaller dimen- 
30* 



354 JOURNAL. 

sions than St. Paul's, it being four hundred and fourteen feet 
in length, by one hundred and forty-four in breadth. Its 
style is Gothic, but with much of the ponderous character of 
the Norman in its architecture. It wants the light and airy 
elegance of many of the English cathedrals. One hundred 
and twenty enormous columns form a double colonade, ex- 
tending the whole length of the fabric. Those at the west 
end, which help to support the inner walls of the two square 
towers, I estimated to be fifteen feet in diameter. The choir 
is enriched with a profusion of carving in bas-relief, paintings, 
and statuary, all of which is well worthy of attention. This 
noble building has stood above eight handred years, having 
been erected in the reign of Robert the Devout, early in the 
eleventh century. During the celebration of the Fete of the 
Assomption, the church was thronged with visiters, walking 
up and down the aisles, and examining the paintings and other 
curiosities. Of devotion, there was scarcely the faintest ap- 
pearance, except among a few of the poorest classes. 

I happened one day to step into a church, where they were 
celebrating mass for the dead. The deceased appeared to 
have been a man of some consequence. The chancel was 
hung round with black, forming a back ground, which set off 
the brilliant silver shrine of the Virgin to the greatest advan- 
tage. The body was raised on a bier about five feet from the 
floor, and covered with a pall, with a broad border of stripes 
of white satin. About two dozen wax candles, elevated on 
tall candlesticks, were burning around it, although it was then 
mid-day. The mass was chanted in a solemn, slow kind of 
recitative, the voice dwelling the same length of time on each 
syllable, which rendered it monotonous to the ear. The 
priestly performers appeared to execute their parts mechan- 
ically. One of them took his instrument from his mouth to 
shake hands with a friend ; and another, to take a pinch of 
snuff. We hear much of the impressive character of the 
Romish service ; but so far as I have yet observed in this 
country, its solemnity is lost in the irreverent behaviour of the 
performers. I have scarcely seen an instance, in which they 
appeared to entertain any sentiments of devotion. The Pa- 



VERSAILLES. 355 

risians go to mass, as they go to any other spectacle : that is, 
the few of them who enter church at all. Most of the ec- 
clesiastics I have seen are hard featured men, evidently 
sprung from the lower classes of society, and indifferently 
dressed. The cures are said to be but slenderly provided 
for ; and to this, their personal appearance bears testimony. 
All^of them are distinguished by the ''^onsure ; yet this' is so 
much concealed by the long, curly locks of some of the 
younger and handsomer clergy, as to be scarcely percepti- 
ble. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 



RIDE TO VERSAILLES ST. CLOUD GARDENS OF VERSAILLES BASIN 

OF NEPTUNE BASIN OF APOLLO THE ROCK BASIN OF LATONA 

GRAND TRIANON PETIT TRIANON ROYAL CHAPEL AT VERSAILLES 

HALL OF HERCULES GRAND GALLERY RETURN TO PARIS. 

The palace and garden of Versailles are famous, both on 
account of their own magnificence, and their having been 
the favourite dwelling place of some of the former kings of 
France. I left Paris one morning in company with a young 
man from New-England, on an excursion to this former 
abode of royalty. This was my first airing in a cabriolet ; 
and I found it of a piece with other public conveniences in 
this country, in point of style. We were obliged to extricate 
ourselves from the grasp of half-a-dozen drivers, all solici- 
ting our custom most clamorously ; a species of annoyance 
often felt here as well as in England. Our horse being none 
of the strongest, another was tied to one of the shafts a little 
forward of the axle-tree ; and as they were not at all times 
exactly agreed as to the direction in which the tattered vehicle 
was to move, we had frequent illustrations of what is known 



356 JOURNAL. 

in mechanicks, by the name of " composition and resolution 
of forces." We left the city by the Barriere Frankhn, and 
pursued our route over a fine road across the plain, having 
the Seine on our left. After going through the village of 
Passy, and leaving the Bois de Boulogne on our right, we 
had a fine view of the village and palace of St. Cloud, the 
park, the gardens, and the Lantern of Demosthenes, on the 
other side of the river. The situation of this palace, em- 
bosomed among trees, and on a declivity sloping down to the 
river, is extremely beautiful. It has the appearance of un- 
cultivated nature, which is observable in many of the parks 
around the country residences of the English nobility. The 
grounds are broken, and often abrupt. This was the chosen 
residence of Bonaparte, when he was not marshalling his 
armed battallions in the field ; and here, in 1814, he render- 
ed up for the last time the crown of the empire. How many 
objects in and about Paris, recal the memory of that wonder- 
ful man ! After crossing the river, the ground rises rather 
abruptly, affording numerous delightful situations for the man- 
sions of the wealthy. Sevres, another small village, next 
occurred ; and after a ride of a couple of hours, we were 
set down in the Place d'Armes, in front of the royal palace. 
We found a number of boys in readiness with their brushes, 
to put us in decent plight, for a few sous ; and a most lo(Jua- 
cious ragged Frenchman exhibited his license to conduct 
strangers through the gardens. We found him very useful, 
particularly as he had learned, by long practice, to speak 
his own language so as to be intelligible to those, who were 
but little accustomed to it. 

The south-eastern front of the palace, which looks towards 
the village and the Avenue de Paris, is by no means impo- 
sing ; although the imagination of my companion had been 
so highly excited with the anticipation of seeing the mofet 
celebrated palace in Europe, that he broke out in exclama- 
tions of wonder on beholding the irregular pile of brick 
buildings which obscure, but certainly do not decorate, this 
quarter of the palace. Three broad avenues planted with 
trees, those of St. Cloud, Paris, and Sceaux, unite in the 



GARDENS. 357 

Place d'Armes. Traversing this area, the visiter arrives at 
" the Court of the Ministers," it being erected for their re- 
ception. He is next conducted to the court of the palace ; 
and by an arched passage in one of the wings, into the gar- 
dens, which are spread out in the rear, or rather, before the 
principal front of the palace. They are three or four miles 
in circumference, exclusive of the park, which contains some 
thousand acres. What an assemblage of avenues, parterres, 
basins, jets d'eau, cascades, canals, water-gods, statues, 
orangeries, bosquets, quincunxes, salles and alleys ! What 
taste, what labour, what expense, have been lavished, to dec- 
orate this residence of kings ! Tiie basin of Neptune, repre- 
senting the triumph of that deity, is truly superb and impo- 
sing. It is a semicircular reservoir, twenty or thirty rods in 
diameter ; in the centre of which sit Neptune and Amphitrite, 
in a huge marine shell, with a group of Naiads, Tritons, 
Phocse, Dolphins, and all the fabulous monsters of the deep, 
gambolling and splashing and spouting around them. The 
sea-god, it is presumed, is here represented as large as life. 
He would measure about twenty feet in height, and Amphi- 
trite something less. These, it naust be admitted, are very 
god-like proportions. Their limbs are fashioned with perfect 
symmetry, and do credit to the genius of the elder Adam, 
whose handy-work they are. The borders of the basin are 
thickly decorated with urns and vases, on the sides of v/hich, 
crabS; lobsters, and other marine animals, are crav/ling up to 
get a taste of the water. When the fountains play, which is 
only on Sundays and a few other festivals, jets of water 
issue from the mouth of each animal, and the hollow of every 
urn. Neptune once had a crown upon his head, as every 
deity majorum gentium is entitled to have ; but in the famous 
era of Egalite, such an offensive emblem of kingly power 
was not to be endured. The populace therefore hacked it 
off, leaving his god-ship v/ith a bald pate, and his brow encir- 
cled by a rim of lead. Thev left him his trident however, 
which might almost serve Polyphemus for a walking-stick. 
All these figures are of lead. At another basin, one is a lit- 
tle surprised to find Ceres in a puddle, reaping wheat ; and in 



358 JOURNAL. 

another, the elegant Flora as uncomfortably situated. How 
they came there, it is not easy to conjecture. It is not re- 
collected that either of them is described, in any of the 
books of mythology, as belonging to the class of aquatic 
deities. The basin of Apollo is in better taste. There, the 
god of day is represented as rising from the ocean, and sha- 
king the reins of his panting steeds. Tritons, half immersed 
beneath the waves, are sounding their shells ; and dolphins 
gambol by his side. They seem to be taking a boisterous 
leave of the radiant god, as he is setting forth on his daily 
journey. To my taste, there is something highly poetical in 
the mythological representations of Apollo. I always look 
at his statues with pleasure, particularly when he is set 
forth, as in the present case, as the god of day. The spirit 
of the horses is finely displayed in this group, which scarce- 
ly yields to the celebrated ones in the British Museum, taken 
from the Parthenon. The horse figures admirably in sculp- 
ture. The fountain of the Pyramid is also much admired. 
The Bath of Apollo, or " the Rock," is a delightful grotto, 
cool and shady, in which Apollo sits surrounded by a group 
of Nymphs, all anxious to niiuisterto his convenience. Some 
are washing his hands, some are laving his feet, and one ad- 
ministers an ewer of water. His godship on the whole is 
very agreeably attended. He seems to be refreshing him- 
self after the fatigues of the chase, and his horses stand hard 
by. The grotto, it is needless to say, is wholly artificial ; 
and the rocks of which it is composed, some of which are of 
a large size, were brought from Fontainbleau. The parterre 
and basin of Latona are pointed out as worthy of particular 
attention. The vases are designed with uncommon beauty, 
afl;er some of the most admired antique forms. The centre 
is occupied by a group, composed of Latona and her two 
children, and surrounded by upwards of a hundred lizards, 
tortoises, and frogs, into which the peasants of Lybia are in 
the act of being transformed by Jupiter, at the prayer of La- 
tona. These pour a copious shower of water on the central 
group, when the fountains are in operation. But to describe 
minutely the works of art which adorn the gardens of Ver- 



GRAND TRIANON. 359 

sailles, would require a volume ; nor could the description be 
rendered interesting. The fountains are supplied principal- 
ly from the water-works of Marly, five or six miles distant, 
where the water of the Seine is raised to the astonishing 
height of six hundred feet, and conducted to the gardens by 
subterranean pipes. 

Leaving the gardens on the north side, we were conduc- 
ted to the Grand Trianon, a beautiful marble palace con- , 
structed in the Italian style, by Louis XIV., on the spot where 
the village of Trianon formerly stood. The front is nearly 
400 feet in length, and is elegantly decorated vrith pilasters 
of Languedoc marble, in the Ionic order. So beautiful and 
luxuriant are the gardens, that this elegant retreat has been 
termed the palace of Flora. Here, some of the queens of 
France have given birth to heirs apparent to the throne ; 
and here too they have expired. The centre, uniting the 
two wings of the palace, is one entire saloon lighted on both 
sides by large arched windows, which give it the appear- 
ance of a magnificent green-house. We were led through 
all the apartments, some of which are finished in a style of 
great splendor, particularly the queen's bed-chamber. The 
bed-stead is covered with gold, and golden angels support 
the folds of the tapestry in their arms. Mirrors are disposed 
every where on the walls. 

Petit Trianon is a small palace, about a mile distant, with 
a large garden laid out in the English taste ; that is, with 
winding walks, thickets, irregular groups of trees, and a gen- 
eral studious attention to the effect^of natural scenery. The 
palace itself consists of a pavillion in the Roman style, 
forming a complete square, each front of which measures 
about eighty feet in length. The gardens are beautified 
with statues, grottos, temples, cottages, cascades and canals ; 
the latter nearly dry, and the former going to decay. It is 
still however a beautiful spot, and pleases more by its wild- 
ness, than the stiff and stately gardens of Versailles, to 
which it is an appendage. Petit Trianon was the work of 
Louis XV., who created it as an agreeable retreat, where he 
could enjoy, in its beautiful apartments, a temporary seclu- 



360 JOUR.%-AL. 

sion from his court. It was also the favourite residence 
of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette, under whose taste the 
garden received many of its decorations. We found here a 
party of EngHsh ladies and gentlemen, admiring like our- 
selves the beautiful scenery, which the hand of art had 
wrought into so close a resemblance to nature. 

Returning to the palace of Versailles, we were conducted, 
in company with ten or a dozen more, through the different 
apartments, by a fine looking Swiss officer of the guards. 
We were first shown the Chapel — an edifice as glorious 
and resplendent, as the richest marble, and a profusion of 
gilding, tapestry and carving, can render it. Bronzes, or- 
molus, and bas-reliefs, are disposed in all parts of this superb 
temple, with the choicest taste ; and the effect is greatly 
heightened by the painted ceiling, on which several passa- 
ges of the sacred history are traced, by the most eminent 
masters of the age of Louis XIV. The altar is of fine mar- 
ble, decorated with a glory ; and on each side is an angel 
bending in adoration. This beautiful chapel was also the 
work of the same Louis : the style of architecture, both on 
the exterior and interior, is Corinthian. 

From the Chapel, we were conducted to the Saloons. En- 
tering from the north terrace, we were first shown the Sa- 
loon of Hercules. This chamber is reckoned the glory of 
the French School, and is certainly decorated with a wonder- 
ful degree of magnificence. It is sixty-four feet long, and 
fifty broad. In the painted ceiling, Olympus itself appears 
to open, revealing all the deities of the heathen mythology ; 
and in a series of groups, the labours and apotheosis of Her- 
cules are represented. A long range of Saloons, eight or 
ten in number, follow in succession, deriving their names 
from some mythological deity, whose story is usually painted 
on the ceiling. The pencils of La Fosse, Le Moine, Au- 
dran, Le Brun, Blanchard, Hourasse, and Jouvenet, were 
employed in these decorations, which impart a wonderful 
richness and effect \o the splendid architecture of the rooms. 
The walls, too, are adorned with paintings on canvass, by 
the eminent masters of the art; and by the tapestry of the 



GRAND GALLERY. 



361 



Gobelins, scarcely to be distinguished from paintings, with- 
out a very narrow inspection. 

But the glory of Versailles, and perhaps of Europe, is the 
Grand Gallery, in which is almost realized the ideal splen- 
dor we read of in the fabulous tales of oriental magnificence. 
It is 232 feet long, 30 broad, and 37 high ; the architecture 
and painted ceiling by the celebrated Le Brun. Seventeen 
large arched windows, opening towards the gardens, light it 
on one side ; and corresponding with these on the side oppo- 
site, are seventeen arcades of plate glass, of similar size and 
shape, reflecting the trees and numerous beautiful objects in 
the gardens, and producing the appearance of a double gal- 
lery, when the spectator stands with his back to the windows. 
Between the windows and arcades, which are alternate, are 
marble pillars of the composite order, the bases and capitals of 
which are of gilt bronze. The ceiling is vaulted ; and on it 
is depicted in Le Brun's rich and mellow colouring, the his- 
tory of the acts of Louis XIV. Nothing is more deceptive 
than the dimensions of this gallery ; it does not appear to be 
more than one hundred feet in length. We were conduct- 
ed through a vast number of apartments, in which painted 
ceilings, mirrors, and gilded mouldings and cornices appear- 
ed in endless succession. Indeed, our eyes were complete- 
ly satiated with the sight of costly magnificence, before we 
had completed the circuit. 

The fagade of the palace next the garden is by far the 
most imposing. The centre and wings compose a front 
eighteen hundred feet in length, consisting of a basement, a 
first story, and an attic. It is decorated through the whole 
of this immense range, with Ionic pilasters, and fifteen pro- 
jections supported by isolated columns of the same order. 
The whole is crowned with an entablature in the Roman 
style, surmounted by balustrades enriched with vases and 
ferophies. Statues representing the Seasons, the Months, 
and the Arts, are disposed along at proper intervals ; and 
bronze figures of Silenus, Antinous, the Pythian Apollo, and 
Bacchus, adorn the front of the central pavilion. 

Since the unfortunate Louis was conducted a prisoner to 
31 



362 



JOURNAL. 



the capital, to return no more, Versai es has been little oc- 
cupied as a royal residence. Its splendid rooms are stripped 
of their furniture, and echo to the tread of idle visiters like 
ourselves. Desolation reigns in its gorgeous halls ; and al- 
though its gardens are still kept in tine order, their sweet- 
ness is enjoyed only by the groups of travellers, who are at- 
tracted thither by the far-famed celebrity of the place ; and 
the bourgeoise of Paris, on the festivals, when the play of the 
fountains affords them an amusing spectacle. 

Having completed our survey of mirabiUa pertaining to 
this celebrated palace of the Bourbons, and been five or six 
hours on our feet, we adjourned to the Hotel de France, and 
got a moderately good dinner, for which we paid at an im- 
moderate rate. I find my English speech a source of perpet- 
ual vexation, in the article of charges and douceurs ; it being 
expected that every Englishman — and all who speak the 
language are supposed to be of that nation — should pay 
double. I have not French enough to dispute with a French, 
man in his own language. He has a most provoking way 
of evading your arguments and objections, by a shrug of 
the shoulders, and replying with a vacant stai'e, that he does 
not understand Monsieur. We engaged a cabriolet, at full 
price, to take us back to Paris, and were entitled of course 
to the whole vehicle, to the exclusion of all way-passengers. 
On the way, however, the driver respectfully asked permis- 
sion to introduce une petite dame, which we were of course 
too gallant to refuse, but the petite dame was accompanied by 
her beau. Another and another was introduced without 
leave, until the cabriolet was completely loaded. Our con- 
tract being thus broken, we conceived ourselves released 
from our obligation to pay for the whole carriage ; but the 
dispute ended as might have been expected. The ragged 
driver made up ia vociferation, what was wanting in reason ; 
and we paid him his whole demand, rather than have him 
shouting at our heels along the quay. 



CEMETERY OF PERE LA CHAISE. ^^ 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 



CEMETERY OF PERE LA CHAISE PROMENADE PHlLOSOPHlQtlE— TOMB 

OF ABELARD AND EL0I8A OF MA8SENA LEFEBVRE SERRURIER — 

NEY &C. REFLECTIONS ON THE TASTE OF THE FRENCH — DREES OF 

THE PARISIANS PALAIS ROYAL OAMBLING INGENUITY OF BEG- 



GARS. 



Among the popular productions of the day, is the PhUo- 
snphical Promenade to the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise, on 
Mont Louis, written by Viennet, a retired officer, who has 
contributed his share towards establishing the military glory 
of modern France. It is, as might be anticipated, wholly 
philo.sophique — it speaks of genius, and glory, and campaigns ; 
but not a word of Him, by whom " thy dead men shall live ;" 
for in the estimation of a French Philosophe, the resurrection 
and a judgement to come are not philosophical ideas. " Be 
not frightened, madam," says the lively writer to the lady, 
to whom he addresses his letters, " at the title of this work. 
I date my letters neither from Elysium nor from Tartarus ; 
nor have I taken this excursion in a hearse, nor in one of the 
funeral coaches which compose its train : it is on foot, it is 
en ■philosophe, that, under a bright sun in May, I set forward 
towards the illustrious rendezvous of all the dead of good 
company. I sought to dissipate the gloomy vapours of a 
profound melancholy." 

With this philosophical guide under my arm, I took the 
road one beautiful morning towards the Barriere d'Aulnay, 
which opens in front of the cemetery of Pere la Chaise — the 
Elysium of the dead. As I emerged from the buildings by 
which my view had been obstructed, a wilderness of monu- 
ments appeared before me, half concealed beneath the trees, 
which clothe the breast and crown the summit of Mont Louis. 
The entrance is through a portal of heavy mason-work ; 
above and on each side of which are engraved, on marble 
tablets, inscriptions from the Vulgate, indicating to the visit- 



364 



JOURNAL. 



er, that he is approaching the place of rest for weary mor- 
tals, and repeating the sublime sentiment of Job, " I know 
that my Redeemer liveth." Passing under the arch, I stood 
in the city of the dead. What a wilderness of foliage, aca- 
cias, ever-greens, limes, flowering shrubs, and monuments of 
every conceivable form, lay spread before me ! It seemed 
as if nature and art had brought hither their richest gifts, to 
beautify the sanctuary of the sleepers. The cemetery occu- 
pies the broken face and summit of Mont Louis, and com- 
mands one of the most splendid views in the neighbourhood 
of Paris. It is very similar to that from the heights of Mont- 
martre, only that it is more limited towards the west. Here 
repose the ashes of those, who have ennobled France by 
their virtues, delighted it by their genius, or rendered it ter- 
rible by their arms. All around is silent as the graves be- 
neath : the reasoning philosopher has done with the construc- 
tion of ingenious theories : the poet's fire is extinct ; and the 
warriour, " who caused his terror in the land of the living," 
has gone down to his rest. No place on earth, with the ex- 
ception of Westminster Abbey, presents such a throng of as- 
sociations to a reflecting mind, acquainted with the history 
of France for the last half century. 

One of the first objects which presents itself is the tomb of 
Abelard and Eloisa, which rears its light, elegant, Gothic 
form, on the right of the entrance. The bones of these un- 
fortunate lovers performed a variety of pilgrimages, before 
they arrived at their final place of repose. Abelard was 
first buried at Chalons-sur-la-Saone, where he expired : 
hence, the body was conveyed to the Paraclete ; and on 
Eloisa's death, their bones were mingled in the same coffin. 
A holy father, scandalized at this union, caused them to be 
disinterred, removed to the conventual church, and buried 
separately on opposite sides of the choir. Again they were 
taken up, and deposited in one of the chapels ; and on the dis- 
solution of the monastery, their ashes were mingled and en- 
closed in one tomb, in the cemetery of Fere la Chaise. 

Near the south-eastern angle, and on a projecting point of 
the hill, reposes a group of warriours, whose lofty monu- 



TOMB OF NEY. 



365 



ments attract the eye at a distance. Here sleep the ashes 
of Massena, Lefebvre, Serrurier, Lamartilliere, Colaud, Le- 
clerc, and Dumuy — names dear to the recollection of the vet- 
eran soldier, who may be often seen lingering on this spot, 
consecrated to the genius of war. " What glory, madam," 
exclaims my philosopher, " is included in this little space ! 
What a noble pride, what a perfume of grandeur, does one 
respire on this plateau ! How proud does he feel to belong to 
France, and to the age of so many illustrious men ! What 
lessons, what examples, what noble recollections issue in a 
throng from the tombs embraced within my view ! How 
many fields of battle, what various countries, what celebra- 
ted marches, represent themselves to my. astonished imagin- 
ation : the rocks of the Pyrenees, the vallies of Spain, the 
plains of Germany, have witnessed the combats of Lamartil- 
liere. The armies of the Sambre and Meuse, of Egypt, and 
of Silesia, have placed Dumuy in the rank of their bravest 
men. Colaud has seen the English and the Duke of York 
fly before him, on the plains of Hondschoote ; and he has 
shared the toil of the same army of the Sambre and Meuse, 
where Jourdan, Championnet, Marceau, Kleber, Moreau, 
Hoche, and Gouvion, have impressed all the austerity of 
their character ; and, in times of anarchy and disorder, have 
exhibited to the enemies of France the discipline of the 
Spartans, and the virtue of the ancient Romans." 

Differing very materially from my philosophical guide, in 
my ideas of military glory, I went in search of the tomb of 
Ney, whose mangled remains were deposited at some dis- 
tance from the above mentioned group. He fell inglorious- 
ly, for the crime of deserting his sovereign at a time when all 
stood appalled at the ascendency which the terrible man 
seemed on the point of regaining. Ney, a conspicuous ac- 
tor in fifty pitched battles, three hundred skirmishes, and 
three memorable sieges ; always leading on the advanced 
guard, the first in perils and the last to retreat ; like Bay- 
ard, surnamed " the bravest of the brave ;" but like the con- 
stables Bourbon, Montmorenci, Biron, Turenne, and the 

great Conde' himself, the betrayer of his king ; now sleeps, 
31* 



366 JOURNAL. 

an unhonoured, but not forgotten heap of dust. An iron 
railing enclosing a vault covered with a coarse flagging 
stone, on which, some soldier, who followed him in his cam- 
paigns, has scratched the letters NEY, in rough characters, 
alone marks the place of his repose. In how many battle- 
fields has he rendered his name terrible, from Portugal to 
Moscow ! 

In other parts of the cemetery, the tombs of Kellerman, 
Labedoyere, and Nansouty — names also engraved on the 
military history of France ; of Moliere, La Fontaine, and 
Delille ; of Sicard and Hauy, attracted my attention. In a 
shady spot, where a group of young elm-trees, cypresses, 
yews and poplars, mingled their umbrageous foliage, I ob- 
served a cluster of monuments ; among which was a marble 
column surmounted by a flaming globe. The inscription re- 
corded, that the mutilated remains of Madame Blanchard 
reposed beneath. It will be recollected, that the balloon in 
which she made her last, fatal ascent, took fire, and she was 
precipitated from a vast height to the ground, before the 
eyes of thousands of spectators. The flaming globe on the 
top of her monument is an allusion to the frightful cause of 
her death. 

After gaining the summit of the hill, which may be as- 
cended by a multitude of irregular, winding walks, you come 
upon a narrow plain extending along the whole length of the 
cemetery. Here, a neat chapel of free-stone has been 
erected, in the Doric order, and just on the brow of the hill. 
In the midst of the level piece of ground above mentioned, 
is a nlot allotted as a burying place for strangers ; and 
among the o-roups of monuments contained in it, it was Avith 
nlelancholy feelings that I read the names of several of my 
countrymen, who had rendered up their spirits in a foreign 
land. Although not one of them had ever been personally 
known to me, I felt that they had once pertained to the 
country of my birth, and seemed for the moment to stand 
among the graves of my familiar acquaintances. 

Many of the tombs, in this great national receptacle, more 
resemble small chapels and triumphal arches, than mausolea 



REFLECTIONS. 367 

of the dead. That of Massena is an obelisk of solid granite, 
thirty feet high : others are in reality small chapels erected 
over the vaults, and decorated with appropriate emblems. 
The crosses surmounting the marble columns, and the fre- 
quent inscription — orate pro anima mea, omnes fideles — re- 
mind the passenger that he is no longer in a protestant coun- 
try ; and when one who has been educated in a purer faith 
observes these frequent solicitations of his prayers for the 
dead, he is involuntarily reminded of the great and impassa- 
ble gulf, which opens between the righteous and the wicked 
in the world of spirits. The cemetery, which is about eighty 
acres in extent, is almost entirely occupied with tombs, from 
the splendid monumental pile, down to the upright piece of 
plank, bearing the initials of the name commemorated, and 
inscribed with the sign of salvation. Here are names which 
will live, when the marble on which they are engraved shall 
have crumbled into dust ; and others, that were known only 
in the little circle of their neighbourhood. Almost every 
tomb is enclosed with a hedge of sweet-scented shrubs, 
which is kept trimmed with the nicest care ; and the hillock 
of turf is planted with flowers. Indeed, the whole cemetery 
is thickly set with various kinds of trees and evergreens, 
amongst which, the cypress, the yew and the fir-tree, with 
their dark foliage, shed a soft gloom over the place, which 
harmonizes well with the purpose to which it is consecrated 
— the reception of the mortal remains of man. The tombs 
are adorned with artificial wreaths and chaplets of flowers, 
generally of yellow amaranth, hung upon them by the hand 
of domestic affection ; and in frequent instances, I observed 
a miniature likeness of 'the dead sunk in a panel in the mar- 
ble, and covered with glass. The amaranth is, after all, but 
a fading emblem of immortality. The manufacture of the 
chaplets gives employment to a number of poor cottagers in 
the neighbourhood ; from whom they are purchased by the 
relatives, in their pilgrimage to the tombs. 

It is impossible not to contrast the delicate sensibility man- 
ifested by the French in thus adorning their places of sepul- 
ture, with the negligence of other nations in this respect. 



368 JOURNAL. 

and particularly of our own. It seems as if our dead were 
no sooner inhumed, than forgotten. To rear a slab of marble, 
with the name and age of the deceased graven upon it, is in 
most instances the extent of our endeavours to perpetuate their 
memory. When Wesley was in Scotland, he remarked, on 
the unceremonious manner in which their funerals were con- 
ducted, that they reminded him of the burial of Jehoiakim, 
king of Judah — " He shall be buried with the burial of an 
ass, drawn and cast forth beyond the gates of Jerusalem." 
This severe satire cannot apply to the Episcopal Church, so 
long as its solemn, pathetic, funeral service continues to be 
read at the grave. But it is worthy of consideration, wheth- 
er certain desirable moral effects might not be gained, by 
taking some pains to beautify the place, where sleep the ashes 
which are one day to be raised in incorruption, and clothed 
upon with immortality. One has only to spend an hour on 
the shady summit of Mont Louis, to be convinced of this. 
The heart is softened, if it is not made better : the feelings 
are soothed by the scene of quiet, pensive beauty spread 
around ; instead of being chilled at the spectacle of naked- 
ness and desolation, which our grave-yards so often present ; 
and we willingly surrender ourselves to the dominion of those 
fast-coming thoughts, which the place is calculated to inspire. 
Every nation has its own peculiarities ; but in their sedu- 
lous attention to render the mansions of the dead pleasing, 
rather than repulsive, objects, the French have shewn a 
truth of sensibility, and delicacy of taste and natural feeling, 
exhibited by no other people. 

The mass of the citizens of Paris dress precisely as we do 
in our large cities in America. I see nothing of the ruffled 
sleeves and tawdry ornaments, which we have been taught to 
believe were always appended to a Frenchman's apparel, and 
to constitute a necessary part of it. The ladies dress with 
remarkable neatness and good taste, and betray far less par- 
tiality for gaudy colours than those of London. The prac- 
tice of rouging, I should apprehend, is confined to actresses 
and women of pleasure ; I have scarcely seen an instance 
where I had reason to suspect that the complexion was arti- 



LADIES OF PARIS. 369 

ficial. The ladies of Paris cannot, on the whole, be pro- 
nounced very beautiful, if regularity of features is essential 
to beauty. But they have expression and vivacity depicted 
in their countenances ; graceful persons, and an air of ease 
and gentility in all their movements. They walk with singu- 
lar grace — a rare accomplishment in persons of either sex. 
Many of them have the true, brilliant complexions of the 
English women, the due compound of the lily and the rose ; 
although the olive and the brunette of the southern provinces 
are occasionally met with. One must have a very fastidious 
taste not to admire some of the fine women he passes in the 
promenades and public gardens, in a pleasant afternoon. 
The American ladies have perhaps better forms than those 
of either England or France. While in London, I often 
had occasion to remark the nearer equality in point of stature 
between persons of different sexes, than in our own country. 
As they walk together in the street, the lady proceeds, pari 
passu, with her partner, and measures her steps by his. The 
common dress of the gentlemen in Paris is of a more grave 
and sober kind than I expected to see. An observer will 
meet with more dandies and petit maitres in Bond and Oxford 
streets, on a fine morning, than in Paris in a week. Judg- 
ing merely from appearances, I should also apprehend, that 
people in the same circumstances in London dress more 
expensively than in this capital. The French are rather 
light than athletic in their persons, and fall below the Eng- 
lish in stature, and an appearance of muscular strength. 
In short, I shall hereafter give little credit to the representa- 
tions which the English have been fond of making, of the 
frivolous taste of their neighbours in the article of dress. 
What it formerly was I know not ; but at present, I am con- 
vinced that, in point of good taste, Paris has greatly the ad- 
vantage, not only of London, but of the cities in the United 
States. Probably the events of the revolution, and the reign 
of despotism which succeeded, have had their influence on 
the national costume, as well as on national manners. 

Every writer of a journal feels obliged to scribble some- 
thing about the Palais Royal ; which after all does not ap- 



370 



JOURNAL. 



pear to merit all that has been said about it. Scott, the 
London editor, gave it a flaming character, in his " six 
weeks' residence in Paris ;" and subsequent writers have 
taken their cue from him. The splendor of the shops is not 
greater than that which is displayed in the Boulevards, and 
far less tPian that which arrests the eye on Ludgate hill, and 
in many other streets of London. The beauty of the origin- 
al architecture was destroyed, in the construction of the ba- 
zaars and numberless arcades, by which, from being the 
residence of a prince, it was converted into a receptacle of 
every thing calculated to please the eye, gratify the taste, or 
corrupt the heart. The building is in the form of a parallel, 
ogram, enclosing a garden of five or six acres, which is no- 
thing but a gravel-plot containing a jet d'eau and basin in 
the centre, and a few rows of dipt trees. Here are shops 
elegantly fitted up, and containing every imaginable article 
of luxury and ornament — cafe's, inviting the taste of the epi- 
cure, by an innumerable variety of dishes prepared in the 
choicest style of French cookery — halls appropriated to sci- 
entific and literary pursuits ; while in the upper and lower 
regions, it is said there are apartments devoted to every spe- 
cies of profligacy and debauch. How much gambling and 
sensuality there are in the garrets and cellars of the Palais, 
must be learned from the representations of those, who have 
taken the pains to explore its inmost recesses. English- 
men, however, ought to be the last persons to reproach their 
neighbours with these vices. The public have been, in some 
measure, made acquainted with the gambling establishment 
in Pall Mall, with its gorgeous saloons and expensive ap- 
pointments supported by noble patronage, where fortunes to 
no moderate extent are lost and won in a moment : and as 
to female profligacy, a templar surely need not go far in 
quest of scenes for many pages of glowing description. The 
southern arcades and alleys of the Palais Royal seem to be 
in a degree appropriated to this unhappy race of creatures. 
Here they swarm in the evening, gaudily attired ; and from 
the familiarity with which they are allowed to mingle and 
converse with those of their own sex of better character, it is 



PALAIS ROYAL. 371 

impossible to avoid the inference, that the line of division be- 
tween virtue and vice is but faintly traced in the popular es- 
timation. Gambling is practised all over the city, as a com- 
mon and licensed amusement ; nor does government disdain 
to derive a large revenue from the sale of licences. " Cafe 
estaminat. Deux Billiards " — "On jou a poules," and other 
inscriptions on the signs hung over the doors, intimating that 
gambling conveniences are to be found within, — meet the 
eye in almost every street ; and the click of the billiard rods, 
and the rattle of dice, are heard every where. When I see 
th« numbers occupied in these and similar amusements, not 
only in the evening, but in the morning, at mid-day, and at 
all hours, my wonder returns — how these Parisians contrive 
to support themselves ! Whence come the five franc pieces 
and louis d'ors which are staked on the game, and expended 
in orgeats, liqueurs and vins ? 

The Palais Royal, it is known, was the property of the in- 
famous Duke of Orleans, of revolutionary memory. Having 
squandered his princely revenues by a course of extrava- 
gance and crime almost unparalleled even in the history of 
royal profligacy, he had recourse to the expedient of turning 
his splendid palace into an immense bazaar. The shops 
were let to the highest bidders ; and either the avarice or 
the necessities of the owner prompted him to consign many 
of the upper apartments to the most infamous purposes. It 
is questionable whether any Spot on the face of the globe, 
of equal extent, presents such a variety of scenes and char- 
acters ; in which, however, unless it has been greatly be- 
lied, there is little to inform the understanding, and every 
thing to corrupt the heart. 

A person walking the streets at his leisure, may amuse 
himself with the ingenious expedients resorted to by the beg- 
gars to arrest notice. I once observed a couple of hale fel- 
lows, one of whom had left both legs, and the other, one, on 
the field of glory, crawling along the boulevards, chanting 
most lustily, and leading a beautiful doe. The animal arrest- 
ed the attention of the passengers long enough for the chan- 
ters to beg of them a few sous, for poor crippled soldiers, 



372 JOURNAL. 

Another chants all day long upon his knees by the way- 
side, with his charity box in his hand. A third wears a 
broad breast-plate of pasteboard, on which is inscribed in 
large letters, aux mines sensible ; followed by some melting 
tale of distress. A fourth sits from morning till night, 
shaking his coppers in a tin cup ; and another covers her 
face, as if oppressed by suffering to big for utterance, till 
some kind soul pauses to enquire into the cause of her grief. 
But there are not only beggars by profession, swarming in 
every place of publick resort ; but many who take up the 
trade occasionally as opportunities are presented. You see, 
perhaps, a market woman jogging cheerfully along with a 
basket on her arm, singing, or gossipping with a companion 
as light-hearted as herself. As you approach she sudden- 
ly disfigures her face with a look of sorrow, and begins 
some melancholy ditty ; and you can hardly refrain from 
repaying her hypocrisy with a grin of derision. One has 
less patience with these, than with the regular practitioners 
of the profession, many of whom are i*eal objects of pity. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 



VINCENNES CASTLE AND MOAT — MURDER OF THE DUKE d'eNGHEIN 

VIEW FROM THE PYRAMID DISAGREEABLE INTERRUPTION WOOD 

OF VINCENNES i-QREIDDEN GROUND PARIS PLACE OF THE BAS- 

TILE THE THUILLERIES THE LOUVRE PALACE OF THE LUXEM- 
BOURG HOTEL DES INVALIDES THE BOURSE TRIUMPHAL ARCHES 

BRIDGES PALACES FOUNTAINS. 

I took a cabriolet one morning to Vincennes, a village of 
great antiquity about four miles to the eastward of Paris. 
Just before arriving at the Barriere occurs the Place du 
Trone, a wide circular expanse shaded with trees. This is 
in the Fauxbourg St. Antoine ; from whose dark cellars and 
squaUd brothels, during the reign of terror, issued some of 
the fiercest blood-hounds of the revolution. Passing the 



VINCENNES. 373 

Barriere, a spacious gate-way between two heavy Doric col- 
ums, each seventy-five feet high, with a lodge on either side, 
you enter upon a long level avenue, ten or twelve rods wide, 
and ornamented with rows of trees. The chateau of Vin- 
cennes, with its huge, dark donjon and tower, appears in the 
distance. On arriving at the village, consisting of a few 
straggling, ill-built houses, I proceeded to the chateau ; and 
seeing the gate open, I attempted to enter, but was stopped 
by the musket of the sentinel, and commanded parler au 
concierge. The result of the conference with the porter was, 
that I was permitted to go no further. I learned afterwards, 
however, that strangers are readily admitted ; only it is ne- 
cessary to provide themselves with a ticket at a neighbouring 
bureau — a piece of information which the porter was too surly 
to give me. I was therefore obliged to satisfy myself with 
an exterior survey of the chateau, which is a quadrangle of 
sixty or seventy rods on each side, enclosing houses, stables, 
offices, dungeons, and a Gothic chapel of considerable beau- 
ty. The whole is surrounded by a dry moat about sixty feet 
wide and thirty deep, faced with hewn stone. It was in this 
moat, that the intrepid, high-minded, and accomplished Duke 
d'Enghein was inhumanly executed, on the 21st of March, 
1804, after a mock trial before the savages Hulin and Sava- 
ry. Bloody as they were, and obsequiously devoted to the 
will of Bonaparte, the manly behaviour of the young prince 
on his trial staggered them. Instead of proceeding at once 
to his execution as they were expected to do, they drew up 
a report of the trial and evidence, and sent it to the First 
Consul ; and it was not till this was returned, with the la- 
conic sentence written on the back with a lead pencil — con- 
demned to death ! that they proceeded to enact the tragedy 
which filled Paris and all Europe with horror. The circum- 
stances attending that memorable act have been often rela- 
ted. At the dawn of day, a postern was opened into the cas- 
tle-ditch, where a fresh grave had been dug — a file of mus- 
keteers was drawn up — the victim was stationed — lamps 
and torches were suspended around to enable the execution- 
ers to take a deadly aim ; and in a moment, the last descend- 
32 



374 JOURNAL. 

ant of the great Conde was no more. It is surprising how 
much more deeply our indignation is moved by a single act 
of cruelty and injustice, than by the incalculable miseries 
wrought by an unholy ambition. How many execrate the 
murder of this youthful prince, who see in the bloody fields 
of Germany, Italy, and Austria, and in the five hundred 
thousand men sacrificed in the Russian campaign, only 
proofs of a noble ambition, and displays of unrivalled mil- 
itary skill and prowess ! How differently do we judge of 
a murder, committed by torch-light in the moat of a castle, 
and of ten thousand murders perpetrated in a few hours on 
the field of glory ! The pirate, whom Alexander caused to 
be brought before him to be questioned relative to his atroci- 
ties, did not understand the political metaphysics, which put 
so wide a difference between murder on a small scale, and 
hewing men to pieces in a pitched battle. " I am called a 
robber, because I have only one small vessel : you are sty- 
led a conqueror, because you command fleets and armies." 
But this is a digression. The walls of the chateau, measur- 
ed from the bottom of the moat, are between fifty and sixty 
feet high, and strengthened at small distances by turrets. 
There are port-holes for cannon, and loop-holes for musket- 
ry ; and the two principal entrances are defended by a draw- 
bridge and portcullis. The donjon over the northern gate- 
way is a high Gothic tower, of massy stone-work, and has 
been at different times the prison of many illustrious unfortu- 
nate victims of oppression. Vincennes was the residence of 
many of the early kings and queens of France. Here the 
warlike Henry V. of England expired, and here Cardinal 
Mazarin breathed his last. The chateau was erected by 
Francis I. ; and like most of the palaces built in feudal times, 
is a fortress of considerable strength. Nor were the subter- 
ranean dungeons, emphatically termed oubliettes, forgotten, 
in laying its deep foundations. 

After musing a while around its massy walls and battle- 
ments, I proceeded along the grand avenue which leads 
through the park to a lofl;y pyramid of earth, thrown up to 
receive the balls in proving cannon. By clambering up fifty 



WOOD OF VlNCEMiNES. 



375 



-or sixty feet, 1 reached the top, and enjoyed a fine sweep of 
prospect over the plain, the chateau, the park, the meanders 
of the Seine, and the distant city, with its numerous glitter- 
ing domes. At this moment, a troop of near two hundred 
horsemen suddenly issued from beneath the arch of the 
gate-way, crossed the draw bridge, and rode away over the 
plain. The sight, so unexpected, and occurring in such a 
place, naturally carried the imagination back to those days 
of chivalry, when gallant men-at-arms pricked forth in battle 
array, and from the same identical spot, to joust in the tour- 
nament for the favour of bright eyes which looked down 
on the pageantry from yonder rampart. Already I was liv- 
ing in the days of the Montmorencys and De Courcys, and 
peopling the plain at my feet with knights, and heralds, and 
squires, when my reverie was disagreeably interrupted by 
the voice of a gendarme, calling to me to come down. 
There is no disputing the commands of this sort of folks ; so 
I reluctantly bade adieu to the tournay, and descended from 
my airy position, to learn the pleasure of the man with a 
feather in his cap. He pointed my attention to a board nail- 
ed on a post, which had escaped my observation, bearing the 
usual inscription, — " II est defendu," &c. — anglice, " it is 
forbidden to ascend this pyramid " on certain pains and pen- 
alties, which were remitted on this occasion, in considera- 
tion of a piece or two of coin tendered and accepted. I 
then turned into one of the long, narrow, straight avenues 
leading through the wood. The Bois de Vincennes covers 
an extent of about 2,000 acres. It consists of young trees, 
principally oak, thickly planted ; and abounds in small red 
deerj^hares, partridges, and other game. The deer were so 
wild that I could scarcely get a glimpse of them, as they 
bounded away through the thick underbrush. I continued 
walking along the weary avenue, till I arrived at the skirts 
of the forest, where I suddenly found another defendu staring 
me in the face. I was again on forbidden ground ; and had just 
gathered the information from the " lettered post," how this 
quarter of the park was reserved for his majesty to take his 
royal pastime therein, in chasing the deer and rabbits care- 



376 JOURNAL. 

fully fed for that purpose, when I perceived at a distance an- 
other of the armed gentry running towards me, and bawling 
with the whole force of his lungs. Not choosing to explain 
myself to him in bad French, I did not wait his arrival, but 
plunged again among the thick trees. What a blessing is a 
military government ! How comfortable to be chased, or 
halloo'd after, in your peaceful, solitary walks, by a fellow 
with his musket in his hand, because you may chance to 
scare a partridge ! After tiring myself in rambling through 
the woods, and satiating my eyes with the almost intermina- 
ble vistas, by which the forest is intersected, I returned to 
the 'chateau. The whole is a dead level; and around the 
walls of the castle is a wide esplanade destitute of trees. 

Returning to the city, I passed along the site of the mem- 
orable Bastile, now about to be converted into a handsome 
Place, or paved area surrounded by houses. Its situation is 
to the eastward of the centre of Paris, and about half a mile 
north of the river, with which the prison formerly communi- 
cated by a fosse which still remains. The spot is now cov- 
ered with large quantities of stone, to be employed in con- 
structing the contemplated buildings ; and a few trees are 
scattered about the area. Humanity must rejoice, that such 
a terrible instrument of despotism has been levelled with the 
earth ; while it turns with horror from the atrocities which 
were perpetrated after its demolition, in the sacred name of 
liberty. 

It would be hopeless to attempt a description of the nu- 
merous palaces and works of art which adorn this metropo- 
lis. The palace of the Thuileries has little to recommend 
it besides its great extent, although a few of the subordinate 
parts are very beautiful. Having befen built at different 
times, and apparently without the least attention to unity of 
plan, it presents a long and irregular range of buildings, 
whose high and steep roofs and tall chimnies give it a singu- 
larly heavy and ungraceful appearance. It stands close to 
the river, from which one of the wings is separated only by 
a quay ; and has two fronts, the one facing the Place du 
Carousel, and the other looking towards the gardens, the 



THE LUXEMBOURG. 



377 



Place de Louis^XV. and along the avenue which leads 
through the Elysian Fields, to the triumphal arch and Bar- 
riere Neuilly. The latter view is singularly striking and 
beautiful. The large pavilion in the centre, which is the 
most ornamental part of the whole structure, was the work 
of Louis XIV. Tlie rest was built by his predecessors, al- 
though the palace was begun by Catharine de Medicis. 
Here the king resides at present ; but evidently destined 
soon to occupy a narrower and humbler tenement. Every 
day when the weather is fine, his dropsical and bloated form 
is deposited in a carriage, and driven through the least pub- 
lick streets into the country — a humiliating picture of help- 
lessness and mental imbecility. 

As a pleasing display of architecture, the Louvre is far 
superior to the Thuileries. It is a noble quadrangle, pre- 
senting on every side a front of more than 500 feet, and ex- 
ecuted principally in the Corinthian style of architecture. 
The top is crowned vnth. a balustrade, and is not disfigured 
by the awkwardly projecting roof, which gives such an inel- 
egant appearance to the Thuileries, the Palais Royal, and 
even to the Luxembourg. It stands on the north bank of 
the Seine, a little to the eastv/ard of the palace of the Thuil- 
eries, with which it is connected by a gallery on the side 
next the quay. That on the other side is only partially com- 
pleted, having been begun by Bonaparte. 

Of all the royal palaces in Paris, and perhaps in France, 
none surpasses the Luxembourg in magnificence. It stands 
on the south side of the river, and at a considerable distance 
from it, on the northern extremity of the gardens which have 
been described in a former page. The prevailing style is 
Doric ; and the general appearance is that of bold, solid, 
massive grandeur. It forms nearly a square ; the longest 
front being 360 feet, and the shortest about 300. At each 
of the angles is a heavy square pavilion ; and in the centre 
of the principal front rises another, crowned by a dome of 
elegant proportions. The Chamber of Peers hold their sit- 
tings in this palace. A little to the west, and adjoining the 

32* 



378 JOURNAL. 

gardens, is the Hotel du Petit Luxembourg, in which Bona- 
parte resided when he was First Consul. 

The new church of Madelaine, " The Temple of Glory," 
is yet unfinished ; the columns are without their capitals, 
and the walls without a roof. It is of very large dimensions, 
and the extent appears greater than it really is by its not be- 
ing broken by a transept. Every body admires the light, 
spacious, airy proportions of the Pantheon ; its mighty sweep 
of dome, and noble peristyle of twenty -two Corinthian col- 
umns, each fifty-eight feet in height. The gilded dome of 
this church, and that of the Hotel des Invalides, are striking 
and beautiful objects when seen at a distance, and in the 
rays of a declining sun. This hospital, erected for the ac- 
commodation of mutilated and worn-out veterans, does hon- 
our to the humanity of former monarchs. It was comple- 
ted in the reign of Louis XIV. The buildings are distributed 
around five courts of equal dimensions, and afford accommo- 
dations to six or seven hundred pensioners, who are main- 
tained here in ease and comfort at the publick expense. 
Between the hospital and the Seine opens a noble esplanade, 
bordered by rows of trees, and furnished with seats, where 
groups of these aged veterans may be seen reposing from 
the toils of war. Some have lost a leg, and some an arm ; 
some have their faces " seam'd with many a gory scar " ob- 
tained in distant battle-fields ; and one may read, in their 
bronzed and wrinkled visages and mutilated forms, that they 
have dearly bought the repose they now enjoy. The church 
connected with this magnificent establishment is another of 
the fine specimens of chaste architecture, which are so nu- 
merous in this metropolis. 

But the claim of superiority appears to me to belong to the 
Bourse, or new Exchange, the exterior of which has just 
been completed. It is an oblong square, entirely surround- 
ed by a peristyle of upwards of sixty columns of the Corin- 
thian order, supporting a rich entablature. The whole is 
raised on a sub-basement so as to overlook the surrounding 
buildings. The beautiful proportions, together with the sim- 
plicity and neatnesss of the architecture, strike the eye most 



PORTES. 379 

agreeably, and remind one of the chaste and pure designs of 
Greece in her best days. The architect of this noble build- 
ing, Brongniart, did not live to see his work completed : his 
monument stands in the Cemetery on Mont Louis. 

Paris is adorned with a number of triumphal arches, term- 
ed Partes, or Gates, although a part of them only deserve the 
latter name. That of St. Denis, erected by the city to com- 
memorate the military triumphs of Louis XIV., is absolutely 
fauhless. It stands in the middle of one of the Boulevards, 
and the great road from St. Denis passes beneath its am- 
ple portal. It presents a square front of upwards of seventy 
feet ; and on each side of the arch rises a pyramid covered 
with trophies in bas-relief. I can conceive nothing more 
perfect in its kind. The Porte St. Martin is also of the age 
of the same Louis, and scarcely inferior to the other in beau- 
ty. The Arc du Carousal in front of the Thuileries, on the 
plan of one at Rome, is of more complicated architecture, 
and pleases the eye less than those just mentioned. Over 
the centre arch was formerly a statue of Napoleon in a tri- 
umphal car, and the famous bronze horses pillaged from the 
square of St. Marc at Venice. The steeds of Lysippus have 
been transported back to the city of islands ; and the statue 
of Napoleon has been tumbled to the ground. The triumph- 
al arch at the Barriere Neuilly, commenced by the same in- 
dividual, was to have been a splendid monument of his tri- 
umph over Europe ; but the battle of Waterloo rendered it 
useless ; and it stands, an unfinished monument of baffled 
ambition. The chaste, severe architecture of the palace of 
Bourbon and Chamber of Deputies, cannot fail to be ad- 
mired. The taste displayed in these and many other buildings 
is superior to most which London exhibits ; but the traveller 
will observe the frequent substitution of pilasters in the place 
of pillars, in some of the most expensive edifices. The ef- 
fect is always meager and unpleasant. The structure is ren- 
dered too flat — it wants relief. This defect, however, is less 
observable in the buildings erected since the revolution. 

Of the numerous bridges across the Seine, few can boast 
of superior elegance. They are broad, solid, and conven- 



^80 - JOURNAL. 

lent ; but nothing more. The Pont des Artes is a pretty, 
light cast-iron bridge in front of the Louvre, for foot pasen- 
gers only ; but the Pont des Invalides, quite in the west end 
of Paris, is by far the handsomest of those constructed of 
stone. All of them must yield the palm to Waterloo bridge 
— the pride and glory of English architecture. 

The Places, or paved areas, which occur in various parts 
of the city, are scarcely worthy of the name of squares. The 
French denominate every open space, surrounded by houses, 
a Place ; and of these, there are said to be not less than 
seventy. They are of various shapes and sizes, though 
scarcely ever more than a fev/ hundred feet across. That 
of Louis XV. separates the garden of the Thuileries from the 
Elysian Fields, It was in the centre of this Place that the 
blood of the unfortunate Louis XVL was poured out, as a 
libation to the goddess of Liberty ; and here, too, some of the 
most horrible scenes of the revolution were acted. The 
The Place Vendome is celebrated for the column in the cen- 
tre, erected by Bonaparte to commemorate his triumph over 
the Austrians. It is erected on the model of Trajan's pil- 
lar at Rome, is 130 feet high, and entirely covered with 
brass, furnished by the artillery taken from the enemy. A 
series of the military events of the campaign, which termina- 
ted with the battle of Austerlitz, is traced in bas-relief, in a 
series of panels ascending in a spiral direction to the top. 
Three sides of this beautiful square are built in a uniform 
style ; and on the ground floor is one continued covered gal- 
lery, pierced with arcades. In the Place du Chatelet is a 
large basin, from the middle of which rises an Egyptian col- 
umn, inscribed with the names Jena, Lodi, Areola, Rivoli, &c. 
On how many objects in and about Paris, has that terrible 
man impressed the memorials of his campaigns and victories ! 
With what truth might he exclaim, with the son of Anchises, 
' — Quis jam locus — quce regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ! 
But the deep silence and repose into which the nations of 
Europe sunk immediately after his downfall, are perhaps the 
most forcible commentary on the fearful and restless energy 
of his character. " The whole earth is at rest, and is quiet." 



FOUNTAINS. 381 

The Place de Greve is open to the river on one side, <and 
lies nearly opposite to the church of Notre Dame. It is the 
Tyburn or Tower-hill of Paris. For more than 300 years, 
every sentence of death pronounced in the city, except by 
military tribunals, has been executed here. During the Rev- 
olution, the square was almost perpetually drenched in 
blood ; and the fatal guillotine is still preserved in the Hotel 
de Ville, which fronts this modern Golgotha. The French 
still retain their ancient mode of executing criminals by de- 
capitation, and the guillotine is the instrument used for that 
purpose. Where publick justice requires that life should be 
taken away, there is no method so strongly recommended by 
considerations of humanity. The stroke is instantaneous 
and certain, and probably attended with no physical suffering 
whatever ; while in England and America, a public execu- 
tion is often rendered a scene of horror, by the slow and 
painful extinction of life. 

The inhabitants of our hot and dusty cities might take 
some valuable suggestions from the numerous publick Foun- 
tains, which adorn the squares of Paris. These are said to 
amount to sixty in number. Many of them are constructed 
with singular beauty, and look more like little palaces than 
distributers of water. The Fontaine de Grenelle is much 
admired for its architecture and decorations ; but a utilitari- 
an would not fail to ask, where was the necessity of erect- 
ing an Ionic temple, ninety feet in length by thirty-six in 
height, adorned with statues, and niches, and nymphs and 
river-gods, merely to spirt a puny stream or two into a ba- 
sin. The Fontaine des Innocens, on a smaller scale, is ex- 
quisitely beautiful. That of the School of Medicine is a 
species of Doric grotto, and weeps a perpetual shower from 
its spherical roof. 



382 JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XL. 



PARIS — THE ELYSIAN FIELDS CHAMP DE MARS ROYAL GARDEN 01" 

PLANTS cafe's RESTAURATEURS HOTELS PASSPORT SCENE AT 

THE ROYAL MESSAGERIE DEPARTURE FROM PARIS A FATALIST 

VIEW FROM THE HEIGHTS OF ECOUEN CRIEL CLERMONT AMI- 
ENS CATHEDRAL — ST. OMERS CALAIS. 

The Elysian Fields. — This fine promenade in the western 
suburbs of Paris, says a French writer, has but one fault ; 
and that is, its striking resemblance to the place in mytholo- 
gy from which its name is derived. His ambition to turn a 
lively sentence did not allow him to anticipate a question 
which impertinent people would ask — by what means he be- 
came possessed of the knowledge implied in the comparison ? 
During the Revolution, there v/as a design of rendering it 
more worthy of the name, by peopling it with the ashes and 
monuments of the illustrious dead ; but this was laid aside, 
for the obvious reason that the place was too small to con- 
tain all the great men in France. It therefore remains, and 
is likely to remain, an Elysium for the living Parisians, 
clothed in veritable flesh and blood — for the whiskered cor- 
poral and the young tradesman, each leading off his femme 
de chambre or grisette in the dance, with an easy carelessness 
and gay indifference not surpassed in the tapestried and 
gilded saloons of the noblesse. The place is a vast, level 
enclosure, extending from the Place Louis XV. to the Bar- 
ricre Neuilly, opening on the river to the south, and border- 
ed on the north by the faubourg St. Honors. The walks are 
overshadowed by long rows of trees, and a spacious avenue 
leads through the whole extent from east to west. Its en- 
trance from the Place Louis XV. is between two lofty pedes- 
tals supporting the figures of restive horses admirably carved 
in marble ; and it terminates at the opposite extremity in the 
picturesque gate of Neuilly. As a Frenchman's ideas of Elys. 



CHAMP DE MARS. 383 

ium necessarily include the felicities of la danse et la mu- 
sique, there is no want of provisions here for these favourite 
amusements. CoiFee-houses and pavilions supply every 
kind of refreshment at a moderate price ; and in the Pavil- 
ion of Flora is an immense circular room for dancing and 
waltzing, and furnished with a regular band. On the eve- 
ning of a fine summer's day, particularly on a Sunday evening, 
these fields of Elysium resound with the twanging of catgut 
and the step of the merry dancers ; while the side walks are 
occupied by groups of calm spectators, who seem to have 
been debarred by the sentence of Radamanthus from attain- 
ing the highest felicities of the place. It was here that the 
Cossacks bivouacked during their unwelcome sojourn in Pa- 
ris after the battle of Waterloo. 

The Champ de Mars is a wide expanse opening in front of 
the Military School, and extending quite to the Seine, a dis- 
tance of more than half a mile. It is surrounded by a double 
avenue of trees, and affords a fine field for the review of 
troops, fifty thousand having been on some occasions brought 
together in this spot. Like almost every square and street 
in Paris, this has been the scene of some of the remarkable 
events which have occurred since the breaking out of the 
revolution. Here was displayed for signature the petition 
for dethroning the king in 1791 ; a ceremony attended as 
usual in those times of anarchy, with the effusion of blood. 
The rabble, having signified their zeal on the occasion by 
the commission of a few murders, were attacked and dis- 
persed by the grenadiers under La Fayette, leaving a hun- 
di'ed dead on the field. Here, too, in the preceding year, 
Louis XVI. took the oath for preserving the new constitu- 
tion, in the presence of nearly the whole population of Paris. 
The embankments, by which the Field of Mars is enclosed, 
afford to spectators a commanding prospect of the military 
reviews, and chariot and horse races, which are exhibited 
here on public festivals. 

To attempt a description of the Royal Garden of Plants, 
with the various departments of natural science connected 
with it, would be useless, in these brief notes on Paris. The 



384 JOURNAL. 

Botanic garden contains upwards of seven thousand speci- 
mens beautifully arranged. Here is a range of green and hot 
houses six hundred feet in length ; a menagerie, replenished 
with almost as many varieties of animals as Noah's ark ; an 
aviary, containing specimens of every bird known in France 
and the neighbouring kingdoms — an immense collection of 
minerals arranged in a series of apartments ; together with 
skeletons of all manner of birds, and beasts, and creeping 
things, and wax preparations of every thing rare and curious 
in the animal world. The gardens are upwards of a third of 
a mile in length, by a breadth somewhat less. They are 
entered by three avenues leading up from the quay, and in- 
tersected by various others terminating in the public prom- 
enades. 

It was a subject of no little vexation to the foreigners at 
this time in Paris, that all admission was denied to the Gal- 
lery of Paintings in the Louvre. At every attempt, we found 
it shut against all visiters, sans aucune exception, as the pla- 
card forbiddingly expressed it ; nor could the interest made 
with the officers who had charge of the palace procure the 
least remission of the interdict. On enquiring into the cause, 
we were no better reconciled to the exclusion. It was, that 
workmen were employed in displacing the choice pictures of 
antiquity, to make room for the exhibition of the works of 
living artists ! A better reason existed for excluding visiters 
from the Catacombs, which I had felt a strong wish to ex- 
plore. Large masses of the ceiling had fallen in, and more 
of it hung in so precarious a state, as to threaten destruction 
to those who should venture beneath it. The entrance was 
accordingly barricadoed against all admission into these cav- 
erns of death. 

The Cafes, Restaurateurs, Restaurants, &c.j are incredi- 
bly numerous ; and many of them are fitted up in a style of 
splendor quite unexpected, though the ornaments are rather 
showy than elegant. As you enter one of these rooms, you 
see your own image reflected on every side from the numer- 
ous mirrors which literally cover the walls, and sometimes 
the ceiling. Every thing is highly gilded, froni the cornices 



CAFE'S. 



385 



and mouldings of the apartment down to the humblest article 
of furniture. After making a slight obeisance to the divinity 
of the place — the gaily attired female, who occupies an ele- 
vated seat at one corner of the room behind her rosewood 
desk, you take your seat on a sofa covered with damask or 
silk velvet, having a beautiful little marble table in front. 
You have scarcely time to notice the light staircase winding 
around a rod of polished steel ; the seas of plate glass mul- 
tiplying your image wherever you turn ; the elegant porce- 
lain which loads the side-boards, and all the rich variety of 
tasteful furniture displayed in a coffee-house of the better 
class ; before the servant presents himself to receive your 
commands. You call for a dish of cafe au lait, and contrast 
the richness of this favourite and delicious beverage, with 
the meagre, over-boiled, and scarcely drinkable stuff served 
up at the publick houses in England, under the name of cof- 
fee. French coffee is made very strong, is boiled but little, 
and drank mixed with an equal quantity of richly boiled 
milk ; a far better as well as cheaper diluent than cream. 
The number of coffee-houses in Paris is said to amount to 
nearly a thousand ; and when illuminated, as they always 
are in the evening, have a very dazzling effect. The Cafe 
des Mille Colonnes — of a thousand columns — in the Palais 
Royal, is one of the most elegant and expensive. Corinthi- 
an columns beautifully fluted, and covered all oyer with gild- 
ing, are disposed around the room, and reflected by a multi- 
tude of large mirrors until they seem to amount to at least a 
thousand. The priestess of this temple is remarkably beau- 
tiful, and occupies what was once the throne of the Viceroy 
of Italy ! This was purchased by the proprietor, for the 
trifling sum of 12,000 livres, (about 2,200 dollars.) The 
Cafe Turc, in the Boulevard du Temple, has gardens annex- 
ed to it laid out in the oriental style, and is much frequented. 
It looks like a palace in Faery Land. 

The Restaurateurs are the houses where the Parisiahs 

dine, as they breakfast at the cafes, and are fitted up in a, 

similar style. The carte, or bill of fare, usually contains am 

enumeration of more than two hundred different dishes, with 

33 



386 



JOURNAL. 



their prices annexed ; any of which may be had at five' min- 
ute's notice. I never looked at one without perplexity. It 
is absolutely necessary to know something of the mysteries 
of French cookery, to form the remotest idea of what is 
meant by the strange names appropriated to some of the 
dishes ; and after all, a foreigner must remain quite in the 
dark as to the composition of half the dishes he calls for. I 
one day attempted, with the aid of a lexicon, to render a 
carte intelligible ; but gave up in despair before I had trans- 
lated a dozen appellations. Very passable wine may be had 
at nearly the same price as ale in London ; and the kind 
usually drank is less strong than cider. A half bottle costs 
about a franc, equal to eighteen cents. 

The Hotels in Paris scarcely answer to the idea we attach 
to the name in America. From the street, you pass through 
a spacious gateway, arched above to support the upper 
stories of the building ; and find yourself in a paved court 
of from sixty to one hundred feet across, frequently adorned 
by a jet d'eau and basin in the middle. This court is sur- 
rounded by a range of buildings four stories high, affording 
numerous lodging rooms and saloons for the accommodation 
of guests. The front has usually nothing to distinguish it 
from the houses on either side, except the portal ; and forms 
indeed only one side of a quadrangle. The guest is not 
obliged, and scarcely expected, to eat and drink in the hotel 
at which he lodges. He pays a stated price per diem for his 
apartments, and breakfasts and dines and sups were he 
pleases. Whether he takes his meals at the hotel or else- 
where, he has the advantage of knowing, by the bill of fare, 
the precise cost of every article, and may regulate his ex- 
penses according to his means or his pleasure. The Hotel 
Montmorency where I stayed is much frequented by Amer- 
icans, of whom however I saw but little. The wife of the 
master is an Englishwoman, and English is spoken by some 
of the waiters. The fare however proved so indifferent 
after a few days' trial, that I availed myself of the privilege 
of taking my meals at some of the neighbouring houses of 
refreshment. 



ROYAL MESSAGERIE. 



387 



It must be confessed, that a stranger, wishing to spend a 
few weeks in Paris, may accommodate himself here with 
less trouble, and if he chooses, with less expense, than in 
almost any other populous city. Once fixed in his apart- 
ments at the hotel, which may be done in a few minutes, his 
cares are at an end. But although it is easy, with a pass- 
port, to get into Paris ; to get out of it is a task of more diffi- 
culty. Having finished my arrangements, and seen as much 
of the gay city and its environs, as my occupations and limit- 
ed time would allow, I repaired to the Royal Messagerie on 
Monday, Aug. 16th, and took my seat all the way through 
to London. The business of passports had been arranged 
in the following way : After getting my instructions from the 
Secretary of the American Minister, I went to the General 
Office of Police on the Quais d'Orfevres, for my original pass- 
port, which had been forwarded from Dieppe — returned with 
it to the American Minister's for counter-signature — went 
again to the Police Office, and had it endorsed with certain 
additional names ; and was directed to present myself at the 
office of the Minister for Foreign Affairs. Here I left it — 
paid ten francs ; and was directed to call the next day at 
4 o' clock. Called according to direction, and obtained it, 
after waiting half an hour. Thus, was the best part of two 
days consumed in attending to these childish forms. It must 
be a weak, or wicked, or unpopular government, which re- 
quires to be strengthened by so many and such trivial secu- 
rities ; and I could not help feeling some degree of compla- 
cency at the thought that I was born on the western side of 
the Atlantic. 

The Royal Messagerie is a spacious court, in the Rue 
Notre Dame des Victoires, surrounded with offices and sta- 
bles, and at certain hours in the day, completely thronged 
with diligences, horses, postiUions, passengers and trunks. 
It is the centre whence diligences radiate to every part of 
this great empire, and presented a most amusing scene. 
Here were a number of John Bulls, arrayed as usual in benja- 
mins, surtouts, great-coats and cloaks, — for John is never 
satisfied with less than three or four extras on his back when 



388 



JOURNAL. 



he travels — three country cures in coarse, clerical attire — a 
multitude of women and children, Dutch, French, and Eng- 
lish — two or three fiddlers — seven parrots — five dogs, most 
of them belonging to our establishment — hostlers hurrying 
to and fro — porters craning up the luggage, pile after pile, 
to the top of the groaning diligence ; and postillions hobbhng 
about in their mighty jack-boots. Nqver was any thing so 
ludicrously out of proportion as these strange implements. 
They are made of the thickest and stifTest sole-leather, large 
enough to receive two or three ordinary legs ; and stufied ' 
within, leaving a calibre just sufficient to receive the diminu- 
tive shank of a French postillion. The weight of an ordina- 
ry pair may be about fifteen pounds ; and they look not un- 
like a couple of carronades with their ramrods sticking out. 
Our cargo was made up, in part, of four or five obstreperous 
young Englishmen, from whose conversation it appeared 
that they had been displaying a little " life in Paris," in the 
Tom and Jerry style ; of two or three others of the same 
country, intelligent and agreeable ; and of a host in the ro- 
tunda, of both sexes, whom I scarcely saw during the ride. 
Travellers may journey together for days in a French dili- 
gence, without seeing each other ; so completely are they 
separated by the structure and arrangements of this strange, 
but comfortable vehicle. I had secured a seat in the chaise, 
which is a front seat furnished with a top to be raised or let 
down at pleasure ; and had for my companions an English 
Unitarian Clergyman just returned from Switzerland ; and a 
Frenchman, who proved to be a very amusing sort of fel- 
low. He had been a surgeon attached to Bonaparte's army ; 
but lost his place when France changed masters ; and to keep 
himself from starving, enlisted as a common dragoon. He 
said he had known nothing but misfortune all his life. News 
had just reached him that his mother was dying at St. Omers, 
and he was hastening to see her. He was singing, joking, 
telling stories, and thoughtful, by turns, as the gay or melan- 
choly humour prevailed. One evening he had sat for a long 
time silent and abstracted ; but after supper, in which he did 
not spare the juice of the grape, he suddenly broke silence 



DEPARTURE FROM PARIS. 389 

by saying, " he had a good presentiment that his dear mother 
would not die." It was an amusing instance of the efficacy 
of good wine and a warm supper, in inspiring favourable 
presentiments. But we discovered that he was a fatahst, 
and beheved in destiny. 

We left Paris at 5 o' clock in the evening, by the Barriere 
St. Denis, and on arriving at the village of that name, took 
the road to Clermont. Just before reaching Ecouen, about 
ten miles from Paris, we came to a long, steep hill, at the 
foot of which, we left the diligence to crawl up the ascent at 
its leisure. By digressing from the road, we gained an emi- 
nence which overlooked a wide expanse of country, and the 
metropolis we had left. It lay stretched out on the distant 
plain ; and, with intermediate villages and hamlets, and culti- 
vated fields, presented a noble and inspiring coup d'ceil. The 
evening was fine — the atmosphere soft and golden — the last 
rays of the sun were gleaming on the rich and lovely land- 
scape ; and it was not without reluctance that we quitted our 
post of observation by the windmill, to resume our seats. 
This part of France is most agreeably diversified with hill 
and dale, and presents a series of charming views to the eye 
of the traveller. Yet he will not fail to remark the defi- 
ciency of cottages and farm-houses in the landscape. He 
will ride sometimes for miles over highly cultivated fields, 
without seeing a single habitation of man. In Normandy, it 
is otherwise ; but here in Picardy, the inhabitants adhere to 
the absurd custom of residing in villages, at a distance of two 
or three miles from their farms. Luzarch and Chantilly 
next occurred, which were visible only by moon-light ; and 
of Criel we could see but little, except that it was situated on 
the Oise in a valley. The Oise is a tributary of the Seine, 
and nearly equal to it in size. It is divided at Criel by an 
island, across which the road lies. Here the spirit of slumber 
came over us, from which we were awakened by the shouts 
of the postillion, pulling up with some difficulty before the 
Wooden Sabre in Clermont. It was now past midnight, and 
we were allowed to stop long enough to take some refresh- 
meats before a blazing fire in the kitchen. The situation of 
33* 



390 JOURNAL. 

Clermont is said to be highly picturesque. I can only say, 
that what I saw of the place itself presented a very shabby 
appearance ; but I thought of it as the seat of the Diocese of 
the eloquent Massillon. On getting again in motion, our 
eyes were speedily sealed ; and the beauties or deformities 
of St. Just and Wavigny passed unregarded. Day dawned 
upon us at Breteuil ; and passing through Flers, Hebecourt — 
a very poetical name — with other villages of inferior note, 
we began to descend into the valley where Amiens is situ- 
ated. The approach from this quarter reminded me of that 
into Leicester on the London road. Amiens is as old as the 
days of Julius Caesar, and was the occasional residence of 
the Roman Emperors in their visits to Gaul. It was once 
fortified ; and there is still a good display of ramparts and 
ruined towers on the borders of the city. The population is 
said to amount to 40,000 ; and the streets are less meanly 
built than most I have seen in France, but still their appear- 
ance is indifferent enough. The Cathedral is reckoned one 
of the most perfect in the country. We stole a look at it 
after dinner : nothing can be finer than the front ; but the 
tower and steeple are too diminutive to correspond with the 
rest of the building, and seem to have been finished on a re- 
duced plan. It was the work of the English during the re- 
gency of the Duke of Bedford. The waters of the Somme 
are ramified into a multitude of mill-races for turning ma- 
chinery, all of which are crossed by the road. 

On leaving Amiens, we passed under two or three massive 
arches by which the ramparts are pierced ; and on gaining 
the summit of the hill, a most dreary plain opened before us, 
which continued for many hours' ride. The roads in this 
part of France, are universally laid out in straight lines, 
where the nature of the ground will admit of it. They are 
broad, usually paved in the middle, and lined with double 
rows of trees. These long stretches, in which tliere is often 
no change of scenery, and no perceptible progress made for 
hours, become not a little tiresome. Night again overtook 
us, after a tedious ride through the rain ; and about two in 
the morning we reached St. Omers. The moon was now 



CALAIS. 391 

shining brightly, and gave us a view of the draw -bridges and 
portals by which we entered the town. Here were scarps, 
and counterscarps, and ravelins, and bastions, and moats 
and portcullises in abundance. How one of these fortified 
places could be reduced, except by starvation or bombard, 
ment, it is difficult to conceive. We passed the walls of 
the famous University, and turned through a variety of 
streets, which appeared to be tolerably well built ; dis- 
charged our presentient philosopher, and issued from the 
town in an opposite quarter from that by which we had en- 
tered. The postillion announces his approach to the barrier 
by letting fly a volley of cracks with his short whip, which 
he brandishes with a dexterity peculiar to himself — an old 
woman appears with the keys, accompanied by a sentinel — 
a portcullis is hauled up, and we are allowed to pass. A turn 
or two, under a continued arch of solid mason-work, exposed 
to loop-holes for musketry, brings us to a second gateway, 
and then to a third ; on issuing from which, we find ourselves 
again in the open country. Morning rose upon us as we 
were traversing the tiresome level between St. Omers and 
Calais ; and about 8 o' clock, we arrived at Quillaque's Ho- 
tel, 173 miles from Paris, in about thirty-nine hours. 



CHAPTER XLI. 



CALAIS RAMBLE VIEW FROM THE RAMPARTS EMBARKATION STORM 

ARRIVAL AT DOVER EXTORTION DESCRIPTION OF DOVER CASTLE 

CLIFFS RIDE TO CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL SCENERY IN KENT 

CHATHAM ROCHESTER GRAVESEND BLAOKHEATH — APPROACH TO 

LONDON ARRIVAL AT CHARING CROSS REFLECTIONS. 

_ I had not the " Sentimental Journey" in my trunk ; and 
not having lately refreshed my memory by looking into that 
too entertaining compound of sentimentalism, licentiousness 
and folly, I was unable to connect the scenes therein de- 



S92 JOURNAL. 

scribed with their proper locahties. The hotel has changed 
masters ; but it was once Dessein's, and here commenced 
the acquaintance between Sterne and the widow. After 
breakfast, whicli was far from being as sumptuous as our bill 
would have authorized, I walked out with my clerical com- 
panion to look at the town. We attempted to enter the Town 
Hall, where an anniversary of the schools was held, and 
prizes were about to be distributed to the boys, but were 
turned av/ay because v/e had not an etiquette ; we tried the 
Citadel with no better success ; we stormed the ramparts, 
but were as quickly dislodged — every thing seemed to be 
defendu. By perseverance, however, we got at length on a 
part of the wall, which commanded a view of all that was 
to be seen about Calais, viz : marshes on the land side, and 
sand-hills next the sea. — The walls of one of the principal 
churches were covered with some of the most horrid daubs, 
and hideous looking wax-figures, I remember to have ever 
seen. The most curious of these were the votive offerings 
of sailors to the Virgin, for her interposition in saving them 
from shipwreck. In such an emergency, it is usual for them 
to vow to give her a ship, if she will only bring them off- in 
safety : but it is all a sham. She only gets a vile painting 
of a ship, tossed up and down in a storm, with her own figure 
seated in one corner among the clouds, with her child in her 
arms. French sailors must think very favourably of her 
maternal indulgence, or they would dread being caught a 
second time in a storm. That such gross superstitions are 
encouraged, or at least, connived at, by the Popish clergy, 
is evident from their allowing these wretched things to be 
hung against the walls and pillars of the sanctuary. The 
quays are noble works, but are left nearly dry at low water. 
A Dover packet had just arrived ; and among the passen- 
gers was a son of the Emerald Isle, who had taken a fancy 
to see the world. He had contrived to get ashore without 
a passport ; but was immediately arrested by the officers of 
police, who could do nothing with him except by downright 
force, which Pat was ill disposed to submit to. Having 
shaken them off, one of our company asked him where he 



PASSAGE. 



393 



was going. "Going? Why along with the rest of the 
jontlefolks, to be sure ;" and swinging his bundle over his 
shoulder, he steered away towards the hotels. 

It seems there is no getting in or out of the French domin- 
ions, without submitting to a great deal of vexation, and ex- 
pense, and delay on account of passports. One word more 
concerning these matters, and I shall not again obtrude them 
on the attention of the reader. Ours were taken from us, with 
our trunks, immediately on our arrival, and sent to the office 
of police ; and after undergoing an examination, were re- 
turned, with Milor Mair's gracious permission to embark ; 
for which gracious act only seven francs were exacted, 
although the permit had gratis printed on it in italics. This 
means, in France, five, or seven, or ten frames, as the case 
may be. I unintentionally escaped the demand, through a 
momentary inattention of the officer stationed on the quay ; 
and the recollection of the little emphatic word saved me 
the regret of having violated any moral obligation, when I 
came to understand my good fortune. 

Nothing could exceed the hurry and confusion of embark- 
ing. The steam-boat for the Thames had sailed an hour 
earlier than the appointed time, in consequence of the state 
of the tide, and left nearly fifty passengers behind to be 
taken into our small boat. Our numbers were thus augment- 
ed to about one hundred — as motley a tribe as ever commit- 
ted their fortunes to the same vessel. Among the passen- 
gers were the three Rotheschilds, with a long train of foot- 
men, clerks and lackeys. Among them was a queer looking 
being, who announced himself at the alien office at Dover, 
as the private secretary and courieur of Monsieur Constant 
—a skinny, hard-visaged Frenchman, about four feet and a 
half high, with a roll of orange-coloured moustaches stuck 
under his nose and curling into his mouth. A chapeau bras 
large out of all proportion ; a coatee covered with lace ; a 
scarlet, embroidered waistcoat ; buckskin breeches, and a 
mighty pair of boots reaching to the middle of his thighs, 
composed the attire of this little whimsical original. He 
strutted up and down with an air of infinite self-complacen- 



394 JOURNAL. 

cy ; and at last mounted a curricle on the deck, where he 
seemed totally absorbed in meditations on the grandeur of his 
official character. The wind was blowing a gale from the 
westward, and we got off a little afternoon. The white cliffs 
of Dover had disappeared — the spray blown up from the 
water having spread a thick haze over the atmosphere. 
For hours, we scarcely made any sensible progress, as the 
boat required to be laid with her head nearly to the wind to 
prevent her from drifting. Almost all her progress was con- 
sequently made in a lateral direction. We continued this 
slow motion till Ave had gained the middle of the channel, 
when the gale became a perfect tempest, accompanied with 
thunder and lightning, and such a deluge of rain as I have 
scarcely ever witnessed. Whoever has crossed the chan- 
nel in a violent storm, will not require to be told what a 
terrific sea is rolled up by the wind meeting the strong 
current, which sets through the straits of Dover. It broke 
in deluges on our deck ; and our little boat, scarcely a 
hundred tons burthen, was often almost on her beam's end, 
and had rarely more than one of her wheels in the water 
at once. In short, I would rather take my chance of safety 
in a good ship on a voyage round the world, than in crossing 
the channel again under similar circumstances. The con- 
dition of the passengers all this time was truly pitiable. 
The cabin, which would not receive more than twenty per- 
sons, v/as occupied by children and females, and presented 
a scene which could hardly be looked upon with composure. 
The rest, men, women, and children, lay strewed about the 
deck in all the horror and filthiness. of sea-sickness, and 
drenched by the rain and spray which every moment broke 
over the boat. Many of them had neither strength nor 
inclination to seek a shelter, if a shelter could have been 
found ; and it required some vigilance on the part of the 
crew to prevent them from being washed overboard. On 
the whole, the scene for half an hour was truly appalling, 
with a little dash of the ludicrous. The Rotheschilds fared 
no better than the rest save in the article of wetting. When 
the storm came on, they retreated to the inside of their car- 



DOVER. 395 

riage, where they soon provided a vacuum for a new dinner. 
It was amusing enough to observe the change of mood in 
the Toms and Jerrys, who had entertained or disgusted us 
all the way with the history of their adventures in the Palais 
Royal. It was evident from their pale looks and frequent 
enquiries into the extent of the danger, that the idea of going 
to the bottom was not particularly agreeable at that time. 
However, the machinery of the boat held fast ; the tempest 
lulled, after drifting us far up the channel ; and we arived at 
Dover near midnight, having been ten or eleven hours on a 
passage, which is usually made in three. We anchored 
about thirty rods from the shore, the tide not allowing us to 
get nearer. Boats came along side to set us ashore, " for 
four shillings a head ;" and a plank, not in the least needed, 
was laid to facilitate our getting on the beach " for one 
shilling a piece." Never was there such extortion. The 
boatmen swore oaths without number that these prices were 
fixed by the Corporation. Passengers, drenched, cold and 
fatigued, do not dispute very long at midnight. We paid the 
unrighteous demand, after a short but not very amicable 
debate ; and soon forgot our perils and vexations in the com- 
fortable parlour of the "Kings Head Inn." 

Thursday, Aug. 19. — The early departure of the coach 
allowed us but little time to look at the town. It is small, 
irregular, and confined by steep bluffs on the one side, 
and the sea on the other. There is, indeed, nothing about 
it worthy of particular notice, except the castle, which has 
often been described ; and the cliffs rising almost perpendic- 
ularly out of the channel. The former owes much of its 
celebrity to its imposing situation ; and as for the famous 
cliffs of Dover, which have figured in the journals of every 
tourist since Will Shakspear's time, they were far less lofty 
and striking objects than I had imagined. The downs 
above are perfectly barren, and terminate in abrupt decliv- 
ities next to the sea, of a chalky colour. On the whole the 
cliffs have rather a comfortless than a magnificent appear- 
ance, and are more indebted to the poet than to nature for the 
celebrity they have acquired. We learned that the Margate 



396 



JOURNAL. 



Steam-boat fared worse in the storm yesterday than our own. 
It was near being lost, and one of the passengers was swept 
overboard and drowned. 

The morning was bright and sunny, and I found a set of 
agreeable companions in three or four young men, just re- 
turned from a tour through Germany and France. One of 
them had visited nearly all the civilized countries on the 
globe. Another kept the company in good humour by 
ludicrous anecdotes of his adventures among the Dutch. 
They were all light-hearted fellows, intelligent, and well 
bred ; and our time passed away most agreeably. I could 
not but notice the sterility of the country round about Dover, 
which is a continuation of the extensive downs that stretch 
along near the south-eastern coast of England. It improves, 
however, as it recedes from the channel, and soon becomes 
fertile. A ride of a couple of hours brought us to Canter- 
bury ; and while the horses were changed, we hastened to 
get a view of the Cathedral. Fortunately it was the time of 
morning service ; the doors were open ; and the melodi- 
ous voices of the choir, accompanied by the cathedral organ, 
were audible as soon as we entered the rich old gate-way 
which leads to the temple. This cathedral is in finer pre- 
servation than any I have seen in England ; and, like most 
of the rest, displays an admixture of Saxon and Norman 
architecture, with the light and florid style of more modern 
times. The choir is elevated above the nave, and ascended 
by a flight of stone steps. After a hasty survey of this 
" wondrous pyle," and listening a few minutes to the solemn 
cathedral service, exquisitely performed on this occasion, we 
returned just in time to avoid being left behind. The city is 
of considerable extent, and bears the marks of great an- 
tiquity. We left it by a huge gate-way, which seems to 
have once belonged to the walls of the city. The scenery 
now presented a beautiful variety of hill and dale, in a high^ 
state of cultivation. Kent county, through which we were 
now passing, is famous for its hops, of which immense quan- 
tities are raised for the supply of the breweries in the metrop- 
oUs. We passed many large fields quite overshadowed 



CHATHAM, ROCHESTER, &,c. 397 

with them. After riding a few miles, we ascended an emi- 
nence, from which we had a charming view of the city, and 
of the gently undulating plain in the midst of which it is sit- 
uated. The most conspicuous object was of course the 
cathedral, " proudl}^ eminent " above every surrounding ob- 
ject. I think I have already remarked, that no just con- 
ception is formed of the size of a cathedral, until it is seen at 
a considerable distance. Then it appears rather to rest upon 
the city, than to stand in the midst of it. Our road now lay 
along an elevated stretch of country, and commanded a dis- 
tant view of the German Ocean, the island of Sheppy with 
the intermediate arm of the sea, the estuary of the Medway, 
and the shipping thickly interspersed along the coves and 
angles formed by the river. The land on our right descend- 
ed by a gentle slope, until it was lost in the wide plain 
bounded by the distant sea. We passed through Chatham, 
a dirty, ill-built towri, situated on the Medway, and famous, 
as all the world knows, for its dock-yards ; and crossing the 
river, we entered Rochester, which is separated from Chat- 
ham only by the breadth of the stream. To the south-west 
of Chatham, the ground rises abruptly, offering delightful 
situations for a number of country seats, which have a pleas- 
ing appearance from the opposite side of the river. Gan- 
dolphin's Tower, a huge, square, iron-grated fortification or 
prison, stands in hoary majesty on the steep bank of the 
Medway. It looks like the keep of some ancient castle now 
demolished, and is in good preservation. It is altogether a 
striking and picturesque object. There are said to be subter- 
ranean communications in its neighbourhood, which strength- 
ens the belief that it once formed part of a baronial castle. 

Having made a hasty dinner at Rochester, and spent a 
few minutes in examining the Cathedral, the smallest I be- 
lieve in England, we mounted the coach again. Passing 
through Stroud, which is but a continuation of Rochester, 
and over Gad's hill, the scene of Jack Falstaff 's valour, we 
arrived at Gravesend, a very neat, well built town on the 
Thames. This seems to be a very flourishing place. The 
streets are broad and well paved, and the houses have an air 
M 



398 



JOURNAL, 



of great neatness and comfort. Leaving Gravesend, the 
road passes over Shooter's hill, from the top of which we 
had a fine view of the valley of the Thames, with the wind- 
ings of the majestic stream ; of Greenwich Hospital ; of 
Blackheath, and of the metropolis in the distance, shrouded 
as usual in a mantle of smoke. Blackheath, once a noted 
resort of foot-pads, is now a beautiful village built around a 
spacious common. Here we fell in with the travelling 
equipage of the Rotheschilds, consisting of four coaches 
with four horses each, and another with two ; affording 
accommodations to a retinue of about twenty persons. "We 
drove into the city a little after sunset, and were set down at 
Charing-Cross just as the rain began to descend rather co- 
piously. Not liking my apartments in the attic of the " Golden 
Cross," I provided myself the next day with more comfortable 
lodgings, during the short remainder of my stay in London. 
It is not without some feelings of regret that I anticipate 
leaving a place, where I have spent so many months in fre- 
quent and agreeable intercourse with a social circle, of 
which I shall always cherish a pleasing recollection. Dunng 
my sojourn in the m.etropolis, I have seen a great deal that 
is estimable, and some things less deserving of commenda- 
tion. I have learned to believe that excellence is not pecu- 
liar to any one country ; and that civil and religious institu- 
tions, which would be ill suited to the state of society on the 
western side of the Atlantic, are far from being attended 
here with all the inconveniences, which theoretical politi- 
cians are fond of attributing to them. If England is old, it 
cannot be denied that her old age is green, healthy, and vig- 
orous ; her piety is as fresh and strong as ever, and even 
more so. From the extensive opporiunities I have enjoyed 
of forming an opinion of the state of religion in her establish- 
ment, I am satisfied that, generally speaking, the principles 
of the reformed reUgion are taught in faithfulness and purity, 
and with a commanding influence on society ; and that the 
number of evangelical preachers, in the best sense of the 
word, is yearly increasing. Of the warm, open, friendly 
hospitality of the English people, I have had too many proofs, 



DEPARTURE FROM LONDON. 399 

to feel any reluctance in beai'ing a favourable testimony on 
this point ; and can say with truth, that, one single instance 
excepted, I never met with an expression of any feelings but 
those of kindness and amity, towards the people of the 
United States. I am convinced that nothing is more falla- 
cious, than to measure every thing abroad by our own stan- 
dards at home. The great mass of people in America are 
as thoroughly disqualified, by the prejudices of their educa- 
tion and their early associations, to form a correct judgment 
of the political and religious institutions of Great-Britain, and 
their adaptation to the state of society here ; as the bulk of 
the English people are to judge aright of our republican in- 
stitutions, and their suitableness to our state of society. I 
shall give no credit hereafter to the reports of travellers, 
who affect to see nothing but corruption and licentiousness 
among the high and low ; tyranny and misrule in the gov- 
ernment ; fat benefices and contented idleness among the 
clergy, and wretchedness among the peasantry. That 
abuses of this description do exist, there can be no question 
— what country is without them ? But that they stand out 
among the prominent features of English manners and Eng- 
lish society, no candid and well-informed man will deliber- 
ately assert. 



CHAPTER XLII. 



FINAL DEPARTUllE FROM LONDON — MAIL COACHES AT ISLINGTON BED- 
FORD SINGULAR HUMOUR OF THE COACHMAN RIVER TRENT, AND 

NOTTINGHAM H. K. WHITE SHERWOOD FOREST BOLSOVER CASTLE 

CHESTERFIELD TWISTED SPIRE OF THE CHURCH SHEFFIELD 

MANUFACTORIES — STEEL — CUTLERY — MACHINERY FOR ROLLING STEEL 

DEPARTURE FOR YORK — HARVEST SANDAL CASTLE WAKEFIELD 

ARRIVAL AT YORK. 

Sept. 1. — Having completed my arrangements preparato- 
ry to a final departure from London, I took my seat about 



400 



JOURNAL. 



eight in the evening in the Sheffield Mail Coach. The num. 
her of passengers in the coaches which carry the mail, is 
usually Hmited to seven, four within and three without. In 
the construction of the vehicle, there seems to have beeji a 
studied design to render the situation of the latter as incom- 
modious as possible, the seats being small and very insecure. 
Bad as they were, I found them all engaged, and was forced 
to take my seat with the driver, a station requiring some 
address to prevent faUing off, and allowing nothing like sleep. 
At Islington, the point of departure for the northern mails, 
we found ourselves in company with five or six other mail 
coaches, all leaving town by the same road, and at the same 
hour. The departure of such a fleet always brings together 
a few hundreds of the rabble ; and indeed, the scene is one 
of more interest and animation than might be expected from 
so ordinary an occurrence. As we were nearly the last in the 
procession, we had the full benefit of the dust stirred up by a 
long string of coaches, but were gradually relieved from the 
inconvenience by their striking off on their various routes. 
Our road lead over Highgate by the " Holloway," and across 
Finchley Common to Chipping Barnet ; all of which places 
having been described in this Journal, a repetition is unne- 
cessary. Continuing our route, we pitched down a steep 
hill into Hatfield, passed through Hitchin, and arrived a little 
before day-break at Bedford, a very decent town on the Ouse 
river, about fifty miles from London. Here, we began to 
find the fogs very chilly and uncomfortable. The dust, which 
had accumulated in great' abundance on our clothes, was 
fixed by the drenching mist, so that we made but a sorry ap- 
pearance in the morning. About twenty miles farther on, 
we came to Wellenboro', situated on the Nen river, a tribu- 
tary of the Wash, where the morning dawned upon us with 
its welcome beams. Hitherto, the road had been tolerably 
level, but we had now got into a region of hills, and our road 
seemed to lie over the tops of the highest of them. Our 
broad-faced Yorkshire guard had sufficient occupation in 
jumping down to clog the wheel ; and " Sawny, ye goat it 
caff?" "Aall's roight, John — drive on," — was repeated 



NOTTINGHAM. 401 

almost without variation, as often as we slid down into a val- 
ley. The humour of our coachman was somewhat singular, 
and it was owing more to our good luck than to his prudence, 
that it did not bring us into trouble. The harness of one of 
the wheel-horses gave way, and let the breeching down 
against his hams, to our no small peril in pitching down the 
steep descents. Nevertheless, John refused to tie it up, be- 
cause he was in ill humour with the proprietors for not rig- 
ging the horses in better style, as he had often admonished 
them to do. " If he did toi it up, he should have to do it 
again." There Avas no arguing the stupid Yorkshire clown 
out of his philosophy ; he had fully made up his mind that 
it was the proprietors' business to see that our necks were 
not broken. — Passing through Higham Ferrers, we crossed 
the Nen, a beautiful stream flowing througli the meadows ; 
and a few miles farther on, came to Kettering, a village with 
a population of about 4,000. The Castle, a seat of Lord 
Sondes, is beautifully situated in a park on the left, near 
Rockingham. We crawled up a tedious hill to Uppingham, 
a quiet hamlet overlooking a valle}- and the stream vv^hich 
meanders through it ; and soon after came to Oakham, a 
pleasant town in the fertile and beautiful vale of Catmoss. 
Here we saw, near the church, the remains of an ancient 
castle, but had no time to examine it with much attention. 
After we had passed through Melton Mowbray, we had a fine 
distant view of Nottingham, an extensive, undulating plain 
being spread out in the intermediate space. We entered the 
town by a bridge of eighteen or twenty arches, spanning the 
Trent " with its needful but weary length." The Trent is 
here a beautiful, clear, limpid river, flowing over pebbles 
through a broad meadow, edged on its northern side, both 
above and below the town, by cliffs and abrupt eminences. 
One of, these, overhanging the river about two miles to the 
westward, was pointed out to me as Clifton Grove, the scene 
of one of Henry Kirk White's early descriptive poems. 
Nottingham was the birth-place of that accomplished poet, 
so early a victim to his own intense mental application. The 

country all about is beautifully varied with hill and dale, and 
34* 



402 



JOURNAL. 



exceedingly fertile. The admirers of the Nottingham bard 
will pardon the insertion of a few lines, descriptive of his own 
native scenery. — 

" And oh ! how sweet this walk o'erhung with wood, 
That winds the margin of the solemn flood ! " 
What rural objects steal upon the sight ! 
What rising views prolong the calm delight ! 
The brooklet branching from the silver Trent, 
The whispering birch, by every zephyr bent, 
The woody island, and the naked mead, 
The lowly hut half hid in groves of reed. 
The rural wicket, and the rural stile. 
And frequent interspers'd the woodman's pile. 
Above, bolow, where'er I turn my eyes. 
Rocks, waters, woods, in grand succession rise." 

The island mentioned in the above sketch divides the river 
directly opposite the town, and is crossed by the bridge. 
Among the public edifices, the old church, lately repaired in 
the best taste, is the most remarkable. It is a beautiful speci- 
men of Gothic architecture, and presents a very picturesque 
object to the traveller approaching from the south. At Mans- 
field, a small village with beautiful environs, we entered upon 
the limits of Sherwood Forest. Having seen some of the 
English " forests" before, I was prepared to find any thing 
but what the term signilles ; and was not disappointed — farm- 
houses, hedges, and well tilled fields now occupying the re- 
gion, where Robin Hood and his merry outlav/s once forayed 
among the king's deer ; and held their revels, or divided their 
booty, " under the greenwood tree." The road continued 
to be rather hiily, but the hills were generally of small eleva- 
tion, destitute of I'ocks, and under fine cultivation. Bolsover 
Castle, once a place of considerable strength, is situated on 
a promontory jutting out from a range of hills on the right 
hand of the road, and overlooking a long extent of valley. 
It is now an occasional residence of the Duke of Somerset, 
but has the castellated appearance of a baronial fortress, A 
heavy, low tower occupies the angle which hangs over the 
descent into the vale. A ride of a few miles, over a very 
uneven road, brought us to Chesterfield. This is a dirty look- 



SHEFFIELD. 403 

ing place, with a populalion of about 5,000. The twisted 
spire of the church is a most unsightly object. The circum- 
ference is composed of a number of saUent and re-entering 
angles, which ascend in a spiral direction. Some of the pro- 
jecting angles are gradually drawn in, until they are lost as 
the steeple diminishes ; while others are continued to the 
top. The consequence of this odd design is, that when seen 
from certain positions the spire appears to be crippled, and 
the apex looks as if it were not over the centre of the base. 
Twelve miles farther, over a road winding pleasantly among 
green hills, brought us to Sheffield, about four in the after- 
noon ; and I left without reluctance the uneasy seat I had 
occupied for twenty hours without a moment's rest. The 
entrance dov/n the hill, and along the banks of the Sheff, pre- 
sents a variety of agreeable prospects, which are obscured 
on the side next the tov/n by the dense clouds of smoke, 
vomited forth from innumerable furnaces and manufactories. 
Shelfield is 162 miles from London. We were set down at 
the " Commercial Inn," where I found very comfortable 
quarters, the landlord himself acting as waiter. 

My letters procured me a most obliging reception from 
Messi's. Naylor and Sanderson, who, in addition to their per- 
sonal attentions, afforded me every facility I could wish in 
viewing the different manufactories which have long render- 
ed the tovv'n famous. Their own establishment for manufac- 
turing and refining steel, was not the least worthy of examina- 
tion. The best Swede's iron, and from a particular mine, is 
used for this purpose. The bars are piled up in alternate 
layers with the purest coal, in a large conical furnace, having 
a grate and flue beneath for receiving fresh supplies of fuel. 
Here they are subjected to a high heat for eight or nine days, 
and are allowed about the same length of time to cool. They 
are then taken out in the state of blistered steel ; a part of 
which goes -to market without any further preparation. That 
designed for the refining process is broken up into small 
pieces, and melted in clay pots each containing about fifty 
pounds, and poured off into moulds made of cast iron. These 
blocks are carried away to the forge, where they are ham- 



404 JOURNAL. 

mered or rolled into the requisite form. Each piece of steel, 
when taken from the furnace and broken up, is marked with 
some number to denote its quality. Every variety of steel 
is found in the same furnace, from the unavoidable inequality 
of the heat, and of the proportion of carbon taken up in the 
process. Some of the bars when taken out are found to 
have undergone a partial fusion, which renders them useless. 
The apparatus for casting steel is very simple. It consists of 
a long row of furnaces constructed of fire brick, each furnace 
being just large enough to receive one of the pots contain- 
ing the metal, and heated by a coke fire beneath. Coke is 
obtained from pit coal by a process similar to that of reducing 
wood to charcoal, and burns with an intense heat. The pots 
are covered with lids made also of clay, and are occasionally 
removed by the worknueifto examine the state of the metal. 
Nothing can be more intensely brilliant than the light given 
out by steel in a state of fusion. The workmen pretend to 
have some secret for refining steel, which they withhold even 
from their employers. Each of the furnaces for converting 
iron into steel contains about fifteen tons of bar iron ; and as 
there are four of these belonging to the establishment, the 
quantity constantly undergoing the manufacturing process, 
may be estimated at near sixty tons. 

From the steel manufactory, I went to the platers, where 
every species of silver and plated ware is produced on a large 
scale. A composition like brass, with a large proportion of 
copper, is cast in an oblong form about half an inch thick, to 
one surface of which is soldered a plate of silver of the 
thickness of pasteboard. This is rolled down to the requi- 
site thickness — the silver diffusing itself equally during the 
process^ and is then cut up and Avrought into the various 
articles of plated furniture. 

Rogers' establishment for cutlery was of course an object 
of curiosity. His finest articles are exhibited for sale in a 
large, well-furnished apartment, fitted up in a style which 
would not discredit a drawing-room. Beneath a case at one 
end is a penknife, with 1823 blades, and another at the oppo- 
site end little less formidable for the number of its bristling 



MANUFACTORIES. 405 

points. Near by ai'e also exhibited in a rosewood case, a 
penknife of perfect construction less than a quarter of an 
inch long, a pair of scissors of sdll smaller dimensions, with 
a variety of other articles which seem to haye been the handy 
work of Lilliputian artists. We afterwards visited the shops 
where penknives, razors, &c. are manufactured. Pen- 
knives are made by a very rapid process. A blade is forged 
in about two minutes, but passes through a variety of hands 
before the knife is ready for sale. The whole amount of 
time, however, which is actually expended in its construc- 
tion, is very trifling. In tempering, the workmen are direct- 
ed by the colour of the oxyd, when the blade is taken from 
the water. An orange colour is considered to indicate the 
proper degree of hardness. If the crust on the blade is 
blue, the temper is too soft ; if white, too hard. 

The files which are exhibited in the American markets, 
are manufactured in some little dark shops, situated in nar- 
row, dirty alleys, in the most miserable looking part of the 
town. The cutting is performed by hand, with a sharp, cold 
chisel, and with great rapidity, the file lying on a bed of 
lead. Here, too, the workmen pretended there was some 
mystery in the art of tempering, which is done by plunging 
the heated file into a kettle, filled with a whitish looking 
liquor. Many of the operations I have alluded to must be 
unhealthy as much from the confinement and bad accom- 
modations of the workmen, as from the nature of the em- 
ployment. Their countenances were generally pale and 
haggard ; and the Infirmary, I was told, is never with- 
out a large number of patients belonging to the class of ope- 
ratives. 

The Infirmary, and some of the churches, occupied our 
attention till dinner ; after which, the Messrs. S. accompa- 
nied me to view their machinery for forging and rolling steel, 
a mile or two out of town. The machinery is all moved by 
water. Most of the trip-hammers are carried by a large 
water-wheel, to which a heavy fly-wheel of cast iron is at- 
tached to give steadiness to the motion. There are six or 
eight hammers of various sizes, in one apartment ; and 



406 



JOURNAL. 



when all of them are in motion, the din is scarcely endura- 
ble. The steel is heated in reverberating furnaces, and ex- 
posed only to the blaze. The texture of cast steel is so un- 
yielding, even at a high heat, that it seems to rise under the 
stroke of the hammer ; and requires to be often returned to 
the furnace before it is reduced to a proper size. We re- 
turned by a circuitous route among the hills, which rise in 
every direction about Sheffield, and are covered with a most 
delightful verdure. I have scarcely seen a place in Eng- 
land, whose environs are more beautifully varied than those 
around Sheffield. Some of the scenes in Ivanhoe are laid 
in the neighbourhood ; but Sherv/ood forest has disappeared ; 
and the traveller may fix the site of Front de Boeuf's castle 
where he pleases. 

Sept. 3d. — I took a seat very early in the morning in 
the York coach, with a company of Yorkshire passen- 
gers, Avhose dialect has now become somewhat familiar 
and intelligible. The road at first was very hilly, and 
our driver " took a swing through the valleys," as he call- 
ed it, to get us on the faster, to the no small terror of the 
inside passengers, and productive of some feeling of in- 
secuiity in those without. Remonstrances followed ; the 
road grew better, and coachy used more moderation. The 
idea of being upset at full speed in an English coach is par- 
ticularly uncomfortable. 

Yorkshire, in v/hich we were now travelling, contains the 
richest soil I have seen in England, and seems equally adapt- 
ed for grazing and tillage. It was now" in the midst of the 
wheat and oat harvest ; the crops seemed to be excellent, 
and the fields were full of women and children employed in 
reaping, binding, and dragging the sheaves together. I re- 
marked that not more than one eighth part of the labourers 
were men, the most laborious part of the operation being per- 
formed by the other sex. As we left the village of Barnsley, 
the rich and beautiful valley of the Dearne opened before 
us, with a stream of the same name flowing through it. On 
a fine slope to the left stands Wentworth Castle, a noble 
mansion ; and still farther up, and half concealed by the 
trees of the park, appear two heavy circular towers, belong- 



WAKEFIELD. 407 

ing probably to the original castle of the Wentworths. At 
Sandal, a small village, are the remains of an ancient castle 
occupying the ridge of a hill ; on the plain before which, 
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, and father of Edward 
IV. was slain in a battle with the Lancaster faction, headed 
by Queen Margaret, in the year 1460 ; and his son the 
youthful Earl of Rutland, was murdered by " stern Clifford" 
in cold blood, after the victory was decided. The dramatic 
poet has only followed history in painting the Earl of Clifford 
as a ruthless and revengeful monster. — 

" The sight of any of the house of York 
" Is as a fury to torment my soul ; 
" And, till I root out their accursed line, 
" And leave not one alive, I live in hell." 

The ruins of Sandal castle occupy a considerable extent, and 
consist of masses of thick wall, and a few broken arclies, 
among which sheep and cattle were grazing. Three miles 
farther on, we entered Wakefield by a bridge over the 
Dearne. One of the piers rests on a little island, on which 
stands a richly carved Gothic chapel, erected by Edward 
IV. to the memory of his father, and of those who fell with 
him at Sandal. It being market day, the streets were so 
completely obstructed by carts and horses, that it was not 
without much trouble and delay that we made our way to the 
Inn where we breakfasted. Wakefield is a very dirty look- 
ing town, defiled with coal-dust and smoke. The streets are 
narrow ; and to render my first impressions the reverse of 
agreeable, the rain began to descend in no very measured 
quantities, and the smoke lay so thick in the streets as to 
render objects invisible at a short distance*. As we drove 
out of the town, we passed the new Retreat for the Insane, a 
large brick building on the left of the road. Proceeding 
onward, the country grew mere level ; and about five miles 
before reaching York, as the road turned round a gentle em- 
inence, we caught the first glimpse of the Cathedral, tower- 
ing high above the city, and bristling with turrets and pin- 
acles. We entered by the " Micklegate," and were set down 
at the Black Swan, a well furnished Inn nearly in the centre 
of the city. 



408 



JOURj^AL. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 



YORK SKETCH OF ITS HISTORY DESCRIPTION OF THE MINISTER 

ORIEL WINDOW CHAPTER-HOUSE HISTORY OF THE CATHEDRAL. 

York, the Evor-wic of the Saxons, stands in the midst of 
a vast plain, at the confluence of the Ouse and Foss, the 
former of which is navigable quite to the city for vessels of 
eighty tons burthen. It is about seventy miles from the sea, 
and midway between London and Edinburgh, being about two 
hundred miles from each. If not founded by the Romans, it 
was at least greatly enlarged and fortified by them ; and in no 
part of the country have the antiquities of that extraordinary 
people been found in greater abundance. Here the Empe- 
ror Severus fixed his court, on his arrival in Britain at the 
beginning of the Third Century ; and here he expired. 
Three large hills a little to the westward of York still bear 
the name of "Severus' Hills," his funeral pile having prob- 
ably been erected there. A century later, Constantius 
Chlorus, another Roman Emperor, died at York ; and here, 
Constantine the Great, his son and successor, was born, and 
invested with the imperial purple. The citizens of York 
experienced their full share of calamities from the quarrels 
of the Scots and Picts, and the incursions of the Saxons and 
Danes. Soon after the Norman invasion, York withstood 
a long siege by William the Conqueror ; who, on gaining 
possession of the city, erected a citadel which still remains. 
This metropolis experienced a variety of distressing vicissi- 
tudes, during the sanguinary contests between the houses of 
York and Lancaster. The battle of Towton was fought 
about twelve miles to the southward, in which the fortune of 
the White Rose prevailed, after the most bloody conflict 
which ever took place between the rival factions. In 1644, 
the city underwent another siege by the parliamentary forces, 
which was interrupted by the approach of Prince Rupert and 
the battle of Marston Moor, in which the royalists were de- 



YORK MINSTER. 409 

feated after a long and sanguinary contest. The siege was 
renewed, and the city surrendered after a defence prolonged 
for four months, and suffering greatly from the fire of the 
enemy. The population is now about 23,000. 

Although my expectations had been highly raised by the 
fame of the splendid Minster, I for once felt no disappoint- 
ment. — 

" What wond'rous monument ! What pyle is thys I 

" That bynds in wonder's chayne entendement ! 

" That doth aloof the ayrie skyen kiss, 

" And seemeth mountaynes joyned bie cemente, 

" From Godde hys greete and wond'rous storehouse sente ! 

Neither the mighty " pyle " of St. Paul's, nor the massive 
architecture of Notre Dame, nor the cathedral of Rouen, 
with all its gorgeous tracery, nor any other building I have 
seen, in England or in France, has impressed me with the 
awe and veneration I felt on entering this solemn temple. 
The spectator, being admitted through the great western 
door, is presented with a spectacle of unrivalled sublimity 
and beauty. Beneath his feet is a mosaic pavement, of dark 
and light coloured marble, the parts of which are on a scale 
adapted to the grandeur of the building. Casting his eye up- 
wards, it rests at length on the roof, at the amazing height of 
ninety-nine feet, the ribs of which are disposed in a singular 
kind of tracery, and adorned with large carved knots, which 
were once covered with gilding. In front, the view extends 
along the nave, with gigantic pillars on either hand, fluted in 
such a manner as to appear light and graceful, and branch- 
ing off into groined arches above. The rich, statuary screen, 
with the organ resting upon it, appears midway in the dis- 
tance ; and the view is terminated by the noble oriel window, 
decorated with matchless beauty,^ue hundred and twenty feet 
from the point which the spectator is supposed to occupy. 
Such is the coup d'ceil which is presented, on crossing the 
threshold of the western door. Advancing to the middle of 
the transept, he is placed under the centre of the great Ian- 
tern tower. Four massy pillars, composed of clusters of 
round columns, on which are cast four arches uniting nearly 
35 



410 JOURNAL. 

one hundred feet abov? the pavement, support the enormous 
weight of the central tower, which rises to the height of 213 
feet. During this upward gaze, the attention is attracted by 
the armorial bearings over the arches, the rich cloister-work, 
the embattled stone gallery, and finally, by the knotted and 
ribbed roof of the tower, which is open to the top. To the 
westward, the most striking object is the great window over 
the door, with its beautiful tracery in the form of a heart, 
filled with stained glass. The figures of the first eight Arch- 
bishops, and eight Saints of the Church, delineated in full 
size and with flowing robes, and the richly ramified tracery 
of the window head, give it a peculiarly splendid effect, 
especially when illumined by the rays of the setting sun. 
The North Transept is adorned with five tall, narrow, lancet 
windows, called the Five Sisters, from a tradition, that five 
maiden sisters were at the expense of putting them up. 
The coloured glass is so light, and so fancifully disposed, as 
to resemble needie-work in muslin. Their diameter cannot 
be more than four or five feet, while their height is nearly 
sixty ; and they are separated by slender columns so clus- 
tered as to produce an efiect of extreme liihtncss and del- 
icacy. The spectator is now supposed to turn his face to- 
wards the South Transept, which is tlie oldest part of the 
whole fabrick, and displays the architecture of an obviously 
earlier period. It is constructed with side aisles, v/hich are 
wanting in the other transept ; and Quart re and Cinquefoils 
are profusely introduced among the arches. Three tiers 
of windows terminate the view in this direction, that at the 
top being the most remarkable. It is a beautifully designed 
piece of masonry, wrought in the form of two concentric 
circles, with small columns like the spokes of a v/heei ter- 
minating in trefoil arches. It is designed to represent a 
marygold, and the glass is richly stained in imitation of that 
flower. 

Proceeding a few steps to the eastward, the visiter arrives 
at the entrance of the choir, which is separated from the 
nave by a magnificent screen of the most delicate and florid 
sculpture. In the iront are fifteen niches, containing the 



CRIEL WINDOW. 



411 



effigies of the kings of England, from William the Conqueror 
down to Henry VI., in whose reign the screen was probably 
constructed. In the centre is an iron gate leading into the 
choir, or that part of the church dedicated to divine Service. 
Passing through this, the \ isiter is saluted by one of the most 
gorgeous spectacles of the kind to be found in the world — the 
magnificent eastern window of the cathedral. A space, 
seventy-five feet in height by thirty-two in width, is filled 
with a series of splendid paintings in stained glass, the sub- 
jects of which are principally taken from the book of Gen- 
esis, and the Revelations. The tracery in the window-head 
is very beautiful ; below, the window is divided into 117 
compartments by mullions and transoms, each compartment 
containing a separate picture. This work was executed in 
the reign of Henry VI., at the commencement of the fifteenth 
century. Such an object, beheld in any place, would strike 
the dullest imagination with wonder and awe ; but when 
seen by the " dim religious light" of a Gothic fane^ among 
fretted canopies and ancient carved oak, between a double 
colonnade of clustered pillars springing aloft into the air, and 
spanned above by a richly ribbed and knotted arch, the 
emotions excited are of the most sublime description which 
human art is capable of producing. Wishing to observe the 
effect of the rising sun, I repaired to the cathedral one morn- 
ing, just as he was beginning to 

" Shed his dim blazs of radiance, richly clear," 

through the transparent colouring of the window. What a 
flood of glory here burst on the sight ! It seemed like a 
scene of Arabian enchantment. The groups of kneeling 
saints and patriarchs, the winged forms of cherubim and se- 
raphim, illuminated and glowing under the rays of a clear 
morning sun, the tesselated pavement chequered with a thou- 
sand rainbow hues, and the perfect stillness which regined at 
this eaily hour — all conspired to produce a momentary illu- 
sion that I was not in a temple made v>'ith hands, but trans, 
lated to a palace called up by the wand of an eastern ma- 
gician. I did not omit the opportunity of attending the ca. 



412 JOURNAL. 

thedral Service, which is here executed in a masterly style. 
The effect, in a distant part of the building, is peculiarly 
grand and solemn. The peals of the organ, rolling huge 
billows of sound along the vast arches — the soft voices of 
the Choir, breaking out into sweet gushes of melody, soar- 
ing on high and playing about the lofty vaulted roof like the 
pure airs of heaven — the pause, the swell, the stunning ex- 
plosions of sound in the Gloria Patri and the Chorus of the 
Anthem — cannot fail to entrance the ear which dehghts in 
the solemn harmony of Cathedral music. 

" "When beneath the nave, 



High arching, the cathedral organ 'gins 
Its prelude, lingeringly exquisite 
Within retired the bashful sweetness dwells ; 
Anon like sunlight, or the floodgale rush 
Of waters, bursts it forth, clear, solemn, full ; 
It breaks upon the mazy fretted roof; 
It coils up round the clustering pillars tall ; 
It leaps into the cell-like chapels ; strikes 
r**' Beneath the pavement sepulchres ; at once 

The living temple is instinct, ablaze, 
With the uncontroU'd exuberance of sound." 

How strongly is one tempted to envy the privilege of good 
George Herbert ; of whom, his biographer relates, that " his 
love to music was such, that he went usually twice every 
week on certain appointed days, to the cathedral church in 
Salisbury ; and at his return, would say, ' That his time 
spent in prayer, and cathedral music, elevated his soul, and 
was his heaven upon earth.' " 

The Chapter-House — "the chief of houses, as the rose of 
flowers" — is a regular octagon, sixty-three feet in diameter, 
and sixty-eight feet in heigiit, and affords a beautiful speci- 
men of the early florid Gothic. The roof is unsupported by 
any pillar, but rests on a knot placed geometrically in the 
centre. The windows, adorned with glowing representa- 
tions of a variety of saintly figures, armorial bearings, &c. 
are in fine preservation. Indeed, it is wonderful how the 
rich carving and splendid windows of this Minster escaped 



HISTORY OF YORK MINSTER. 413 

the brick-bats of Oliver's Vandals ; particularly as York did 
not surrender to their forces till after a long siege. There 
is a tradition among the inhabitants, that Fairfax, provoked 
by the resistance of the citizens, at length planted a battery 
against the cathedral, and threatened to open a fire upon it 
unless the city surrendered — a threat which produced the 
desired effect. 

It may be |,.atifying to trace the history of the present 
building, as it will afford some idea of the process, by which 
many other cathedral churches were erected. It appears 
that, in ancient times, the ecclesiasticks were well skilled in 
architecture, and often built their own Abbies and Cathe- 
drals. Gandolphin's Tower at Rocliester, formerly men- 
tioned in this Journal, was built by Bishop Gundulph, who 
was reckoned one of the best architects of his time. New- 
ark Castle, demolished in consequence of its holding out so 
long for Charles I., was the work of the Bishop of Lincoln ; 
and the Abbot of St. Mary's erected the Abbey near the 
north-west angle of York, whose ruins are now so much and 
deservedly admired. The first Christian edifice erected at 
York was a small wooden oratory, for the baptism of the 
Saxon King Edwin, in the early part of the 7th century, and 
stood on the site of the present cathedral. This was after- 
wards enclosed by a large stone church, which was des- 
troyed by fire, after it had stood about one hundred years. 
In 767, Albert, Archbishop of York, commenced rebuilding 
it, employing Eanbald and Alcuin, two learned and accom- 
plished ecclesiasticks, to design and superintend the work. 
A splendid church of Saxon architecture was the result of 
their joint labours. This too was consumed during a siege 
of the city by the Normans, in the year 1069. It was 
speedily rebuilt, and again destroyed by fire, in the year 
1137. The vaults and choir were however re-constructed 
in the latter part of the same century, by Archbishop Roger, 
the famous opponent of Becket. The south transept was 
added in 1227, and the northern one about 30 years later. 
A steeple was also erected, which was afterwards taken 
down. About thirty years later, the foundation of the liave 
35* 



414 JOURNAL. 

was laid, and completed, with its noble western towers, by 
William de Melton, about the year 1330. The old choir, or 
all the building east of the transept, was now pulled down, 
to make room for the present one, which, with the great cen- 
tral tower, was completed in 1380. The present cathedral 
was therefore about 150 years in building, and was erected 
in portions, at different intervals of time. So well were the 
parts united, however, that it appears to be c-..e entire struc- 
ture, although a great variety of tastes is observable in the 
style of architecture. The interior dimensions of the whole 
pile are as follows : length from east to west, 524i feet ; 
breadth, 109 ; do. at the transept, 222 ; height of the nave, 
99 feet. It would be idle to attempt to convey any idea of 
the external appearance of this stupendous structure, by 
mere description. The effect of light and shade is best ex- 
hibited by a morning or evening sun, when the towers and 
pinnacles acquire a degree of lightness far superior to that 
which is shewn at mid-day ; unless the visiter prefers a sur- 
vey by moon-light — 

" Vi hen the cold light's uncertain shower 
Streams on the lofty central tower; 
When buttress and buttress, alternately. 
Seem framed of ebon and ivory." 



CHAPTER XLIV. 



TORE — ST. Mary's abbey-clifford's tower — multangular tower — 

CITY WALLS RETREAT FOR THE INSANE CHURCnES DEPARTURE 

COUNTRY THIRSK CLEVELAND HILLS MOUNT GRACE YARM 

LONG-NEWTON REV. MR. FABER — SUNDAY AT LONG-NEWTON STOCK- 

TON-UPON-TEES DURHAM. 

York affords many noble remains of early days, well worthy 
the attention of the antiquary; and among these, the ruins of 
St. Mary's Abbey and vaults are not the least conepi uous. 
But little has survived the depredations of that destioyer of 



CLIFFORD'S TOWER. 415 

religious houses, Henry VIIL, and the corroding hand of 
time ; yet that little shows it to have been an edifice of sur- 
passing elegance. A beautifully wrought gate-way, and a 
portion of the wall, perforated with arches and fretted with 
tracery, still remain, to attest the taste and architectural skill 
of Simon de Warwick, the Abbot under whose superintend- 
ence the work was constructed, in the latter end of the thir- 
teenth century. From these ruins, a subterranean vault of 
heavy mason-work leads to a range of buildings, situated at 
a considerable distance, the use of which it is now difiicult 
to determine. The whole was enclosed by the monks, at an 
earl)^ period, with a wall, and fortified with towers, some 
parts of which are yet remaining. 

The attention of the stranger will not fail to be attracted 
by the ruins of a tower, situated on a mound evidently arti- 
ficial, and shaded with trees. 

" How reverend grey 



In hoary age, its vvalls ! 

With tufted moss and ivy rudely hung." 

This fortification, which was once a Keep to the Castle, 
whose foundations are hard by, was erected by William the 
Conqueror immediately after the surrender of the city, about 
760 years ago. It goes by the name of" Clifford's Tower," 
one of the Clifford family having been the first governor of 
it. The form is singular, and consists of four segments of 
circles joined together. The walls are still twenty or thirty 
feet high, and are perforated with loop-holes for discharging 
arrows. It made a good defence against the parliamentary 
forces in the time of Charles I., a battery of cannon having 
been mounted on the top. The interior works were de- 
molished, however, a few years later, by the explosion of a 
magazine ; and although it has since been greatly injured by 
the slow consuming hand of time, — 



whose gradual touch 



Has moulder'd into beauty many a Tower, 
"Which, when it frown'd with all its battlements. 
Was only terrible ;" 



416 JOURNAL. 

yet it is still an object of singular attraction, to those who 
take delight in searching into the relics of feudal antiquity. 
A Roman fortification of great extent once covered the 
ground in the neighbourhood of Clifford's Tower. These 
works are on the eastern side of the river, and near the south 
border of the city. On the other side of the stream, and di- 
rectly opposite, is another artificial mound, which is also sup- 
posed to have been the foundation of a castle, constructed by 
the same extraordinary people. The remains of the Roman 
Multangular Tower are situated on the north-western angle 
of the city, and close to the Ouse, which divides York into 
two unequal parts. 

York is a fortified city — not after the manner of towns on 
the continent, with triple lines of defence — but with a single 
wall and moat, and these of very ordinary dimensions. The 
moat was simply a ditch, not faced with stone ; and the wall 
is scarcely above six or eight feet in height, although it must 
have been much higher, when it detained the republican 
forces so long, before the place surrendered. It is now fast 
going to decay ; and the moat is, in many places, quite filled 
up. The entrances are by Micklegate, Bootham, Monk, and 
Walmgate Bars ; some of which have their barbacans, port- 
cullises, &c., yet remaining, and exhibit much architectural 
beauty. The Fosse, a small, swampy stream, runs along at 
the base of the eastern wall, and discharges itself into the 
Ouse by a very winding channel. 

I took an opportunity to visit the York " Retreat for the 
Insane,"' which is situated a little more than a mile to the 
eastward of the city. Some beautiful little Quaker girls, 
dressed with the characteristic neatness of the sect, were 
near the gate, one of whom conducted me to Mr. Jepson, the 
superintendant. I had no introduction ; but on my express- 
ing a desire to see the ins itution, and that I was in some de- 
gree interested in the success of a similar establishment in 
the United States, he very politely introduced me to Mr. 
Tuke, the author of an interesting published account of the 
Retreat, who had just returned from Paris. I have scarcely 
ever seen a man of more prepossessmg appearance. He is 



YORK RETREAT. 417 

small in person, of lively manners, and has a remarkable 
sweetness and vivacity of expression, mingled with a large 
share of intelligence. He accompanied me through most of 
the wards ; but other visiters arriving, he gave me in charge 
to the superintendant, who showed me the rest. There was 
an air of neatness and comfort in all the apartments, which 
contrasted agreeably with the melancholy purposes to which 
they were devoted. The inmates appeared to be very strong- 
ly attached to Mr. Tuke, who had something kind and sooth- 
ing to say to them all. It was impossible not to smile at 
some of their extemporary rhymes, for which they manifest- 
ed a good deal of propensity. The observations I had an 
opportunity to make, convinced me more strongly than ever, 
of the propriety of excluding visiters from the insane. It 
was easy to see that the presence of a stranger gave pain. 
Some immediately turned away on our entering the apart- 
ment, evidently agitated and distressed. In certain stages 
of the disease, or rather, among those of a certain class, 
there is an apparent consciousness of mental infirmity — a 
feeling of degradation, which they are anxious to hide from 
the world ; the exposure of which distresses them, while it 
cannot fail to aggravate their malady. The seclusion which 
is now allowed to those afflicted with mental alienation, in 
the various Reti'eats recently erected, must be considered as 
a vast improvement on the system formerly pursued. Mr. 
Tuke does not recommend their building as a model , they 
have made numerous alterations, but it is still defective. 
That at Wakefield, he said, was constructed on a far better 
plan. The Retreat is about thirty yards from the road, from 
which it is entirely concealed by a lofty hedge, and a dense 
row of trees. It is built on a small eminence, which com- 
mands a beautiful and extensive prospect in all directions. 
In this respect, however, it will not bear a comparison with 
that at Hartford, in Connecticut, to which it is also much in^ 
ferior in point of arrangement, neatness and convenience. 
The structure is of rough brick, without any pretensions to 
elegance. A new building has been added in the rear, call- 
ed " the Lodge," and connected with the main one by a long 



418 JOURNAL. 

covered passage. This institution belongs to the Society of 
Friends, and was opened for the reception of patients about 
twenty years ago. The founder of it was the venerable 
William Tuke, the grandfather of the gentleman, to whose 
politeness I was indebted for the opportunity of examining 
the interior. 

" The Lunatic Asylum" is an institution of much older 
date, and situated near Bootham Bar ; but I had no time to 
visit it. 

The number of parish churches in York is very large in 
proportion to the population. There are said to be more 
j,han twenty ; and in ancient times, the number was nearly 
double. Although some of them are very handsome and 
venerable edifices, they show to great disadvantage in the 
neighbourhood of the splendid Minster, the pride and glory of 
English Ecclesiastical architecture. The city is very irregu- 
larly built, with narrow, crooked streets, and jutting houses. 
Its attractions do not consist in the beauty of its modern edi- 
fices ; but in its cathedral, and the venerable remains of an- 
tiquity, which lead the imagination back to the period of dis- 
astrous civil commotions ; to scenes of lazy, monkish seclu- 
sion ; or to an era still more remote, when the imperial eagle 
waved over the castle, and Roman Emperors received the 
homage of rude British chieftains, surrounded by a guard of 
mail-clad warriours. How forcibly do scenes like these re- 
mind one of the instability of empire, and of the short im- 
mortality assigned to the most solid works of human art ! 

Sept. 3. — I left York this morning in one of the northern 
coaches, with a cargo of passengers, whose broad unmean- 
ing faces, and continual talk about cattle in the dialect of 
the county, sufficiently indicated them to be substantial 
yeomen of the neighbourhood. The morning was delight- 
ful, and as we rode over the wide plain in the midst of which 
the northern metropolis of England is situated, we took a 
parting view of the Minster and the subjacent city, which 
disappears long before the turretted pile becomes sensibly 
diminished to the eye. When seen at a distance over the 
plain, it has much the appearance of a vast ship sleeping on 



MOUNT GRACE. 419 

the bosom of the ocean. Our course led us through a rich 
and scarcely undulating country, in no high state of cultiva- 
tion, and but thinly inhabited. A great proportion of the 
fields is allotted to grazing, and large herds of cattle and 
horses were scatter d over the level pastures. Neither the 
dwellings nor their inhabitants had the air of neatness and 
comfort observable in the southern parts of the island. This 
shire seems not to be a favourite residence of the nobility and 
gentry, as none of their country seats appeared during the- 
whole day's ride. Easingwold, through which we passed, is 
a small, ruinous village, miserably contrasting with the fertile 
country around. We arrived at Thirsk, a village of larger 
dimensions and more genteel a[ pearance, just as the Yarra 
coach was setting off, in which 1 immediately secured a seat, 
with a company as unintellectual as before. We found a 
little amusement however during our monotonous ride, in 
the conversation of a diminu ive, ragged, enthusiastic pro- 
fessor of the rod — a s jrt of Will Wimble — whom we picked 
up by the v/ay. His fishing tackle looked as if it had done 
service in a hundred campaigns ; and he entertained us with 
a glowing description of his storming a wasps' nest, to get 
tiieir young for bait. We dropped the little leather-faced 
angler, just as a shower came up to lure the trout from their 
lurking-holes; and silence was again restored. About twenty 
miles from York, we began to exchange the level champaign, 
for a gradual ascent tow ^rds the Yorkshire or Cleveland hills, 
which appeared stretching away to the north and east. As 
the road swept around the western base of the range, the 
soil became less fertile, and the face of the country more 
varied. We continued our ri le along the foot of this heathy 
ridge for twenty miles, till we came to the Fountain Inn, 
standing quite in the midst of a solitude — a very unusual 
occurrence on the public roads in England. Leaving the 
parly to dine, I went to look at some ruins about a quarter of 
a mile from the road, which had attracted my attention. 
They are the remains of Mount Grace, a Monastery of Cis- 
tertian monks, delightfully situated in a little quiet recess at 
the foot of the Cleveland hills. When seen from the side 



420 JOURiNAL. 

next the road, the ruinous chapel and dilapidated walls of 
the Monastery, half concealed beneath clumps of trees ; the 
green lawn in front stretching down to the little brook ; and 
the bold and barren swell of the mountain rising abruptly in 
the rear ; formed altogether a picturesque assemblage of 
objects, borrowing additional interest from the purposes to 
which the place had been consecrated. No situation could 
have been chosen better suited to the seclusion of monastic 
life, than that of Mount Grace at the foot of the Cleveland 
hills. — Ten miles farther brought us to Yarm, a pleasant 
village on the Tees, which is here a boatable stream about 
fifteen yards broad. Leaving the coach, I took a post-chaise 
for Long-Newton, about three miles distant ; and was set 
down at the door of the Rev. G. S. Faber a little before 
night. 

The letters of Mr. F. had led me to anticipate a kind and 
cordial reception ; nor was I disappointed. He is advan- 
tageously known among our American divines, by his excel- 
lent work on the Holy Spirit, his writings on the Prophecies, 
and various other theological tracts. In conversation, he is 
remarkably sprightly and entertaining, and he has a happy 
talent at illustrating his ideas by appropriate and often hu- 
morous anecdotes. He frequently reminded me of Professor 

K , whom he resembles very much in person, and still 

more in his original, and lively turn of remark. The income 
of the Rectory of Long-Newton affords him an easy sub- 
sistence ; and the smallness of his parochial cure allows him 
much leisure for the pursuit of his favourite studies. With 
the cordial frankness of English manners, the lady of Mr. 
F. is so much like one of our best educated American la- 
dies, that I was placed quite at my ease while enjoying the 
hospitality of this worthy family. They have two sons, both 
students at Oxford, but now spending their vacation at home. 
A few acres very neatly laid out in gardens, grass plots, and 
crravelled walks, and planted with trees and shrubbery, sur- 
i;ound the Rectory, an old-fashioned but very convenient 
building. It stands in the rear of the church, with which it 
is connected by a walk, over hung with trees. The church 



STOCKTON-UPON-TEES. 421 

is a plain, Gothic building ; and the congregation is compo- 
sed principally of the neighbouring tenants and their fami- 
lies. The hamlet consists of half a dozen cottages inhabited 
by the peasantry, and situated on the long straight road which 
leads by the church. During the evening, Mr. F. received 
a note from Lord L , announcing the intention of him- 
self and lady to attend church the next day ; but on Sunday 
morning, the arrival of another message indicated a change 
of intention in consequence of the indisposition of Lady 
L . It was easy to see that so much parade and formali- 
ty, in discharging a duty alike incumbent on the high and 
the low, were by no means agreeable to the honest, manly 
feelings of the Rector. Lord L. has estates in the neigh- 
bourhood, where he spends a few weeks in the shooting 
season ; and usually favours the church at Long-Newton 
with half a day's attendance, to the no small discomposure of 
the humble, simple-minded parishioners. On Sunday, we 
had two excellent discourses from the Rector, to the little 
flock which constitutes his charge. His style of delivery is 
plain and unassuming, but earnest ; his voice is too weak to 
admit of many inflections, and he preaches without gesture. 
His pronunciation partakes in the slightest possible degree of 
the peculiarities of the North of England, of which he is a 
native. The Yorkshire dialect is a mixture of English and 
Scotch ; and forms, in fact, a transition between the two 
languages, having at the same time some expressions pecu- 
liarly its own. Traces of it are perceptible to the southward 
of Yorkshire ; it prevails in Durham and Northumberland, 
and is finally merged in the Scotch dialect, on the north side 
of the Tweed. 

Monday, Sept. 6. — Afler an early dinner, I took leave of 
my hospitable entertainer, for whose character my esteem 
has been increased by a personal acquaintance ; and set for- 
ward on horseback for Stockton-upon-Tees to meet the 
coach, accompanied by honest John to lead back the horse. 
Stockton is a pleasant thriving town, containing a population 
of five or six thousand inhabitants. It is principally built on 
one broad, well-paved street, and many of the best houses 
36 



422 JOURNAL. 

are new. On our way, we passed the Darlington Rail-road, 
on which, when completed, steam-carriages are to be employ- 
ed. At Stockton, I took the coach to Durham, and proceed- 
ed for several miles over a level country to Sedgefield, an 
inconsiderable village. Soon after leaving it, we passed 
Hardwicke, a beautiful country seat on the left of the road. 
About seven miles before we reached Durham, as we gained 
the summit of a hill, the Cathedral became dimly visible 
through the smoke, and situated apparently at no great dis- 
tance, on the fartherest verge of a plain. But I have learned 
to make a liberal allowance for the apparent distance of ca- 
thedrals. Their bulk, so much above the dimensions of or- 
dinary buildings, always impresses the idea of their being 
much nearer than they really are ; nor is the mistake cor- 
rected till after repeated trials. As you approach this an- 
cient city, you descend, by a very steep and romantic glen, 
into a plain, three-fourths of a mile broad, through which the 
river Wear makes its way by numerous sinuosities. Crossing 
the stream by an ancient stone bridge, you ascend a steep 
bluff by a cut with high banks on either side ; and soon are 
presented with another view of the Cathedral, and of the 
city spread out beneath you. You again descend by a 
winding road leading into one of the principal streets, and 
are set down at the " Waterloo Inn," a very comfortable 
house of entertainment. As I arrived a little before sunset, 
I had time to ramble over the city before dark, and to see 
most that was worth seeing. In the evening I called on Mr. 
Sumner, a Prebendary of Durham, with a letter from Mr. 
Faber, and passed a few hours most agreeably in his family. 
Having engaged the porter to be at his post early in the 
morning to admit me to the cathedral, and taken a moonlight 
survey of the castle, and ruinous " Keep" situated on an 
artificial mound, I returned to my lodgings. 



DURHAM. 



CHAPTER XLV. 



423 



DURHAM CATHEDRAL ST. CUTHBKRT VIEW FROM THE CATHEDRAL 

TOWER REMAINS OF FORTIFICATIONS BISHOPS OF DURHAM DE- 
PARTURE NEWCASTLE PUBLICK BUILDINGS ANTiaUITIES HISTO- 
RICAL SKETCH — DEPARTURE FOR EDINBURGH MORPETH RINSIDE 

MOOR CHEVIOT HILLS PERCy's CROSS FLODDEN FIELD THE 

TWEED COLDSTREAM KELSO LAMMERMOOR EDINBURGH. 

Sept. 7th. — I rose this morning at a very early hour, and 
repaired to the Cathedral, where 1 found the porter waiting 
(o admit me into the building. The material of which it is 
constructed is a free-stone, resembling that from the quarries 
near Middletown, but with a deeper tinge of red. The tex- 
ture seems to have been too soft for the purpose ; such at 
least was my impression, until I recollected that the venera- 
ble fabric had stood the storms of seven hundred winters. 
Although many parts of the exterior are in a crumbling state, 
the general appearance ansvv^ers to the description given by 
Dr. Johnson, that " it strikes with a kind of gigantic dignity, 
and aspires to no other praise than that of rocky solidity, and 
indeterminate duration." Like other cathedrals, this was 
the work of many successive years, — the foundation having 
been laid in 1093, and the structure completed in the follow- 
ing century, without much reference to unity of design. The 
exterior, however, is wholly of Norman architecture, with 
the exception of a few pointed windows at the west end, and 
the chancel window at the east. The splendid stained glass 
which once adorned them, was demolished, when a regiment 
of Cromwell's fanaticks converted the cathedral into a stable 
for their horses. The style of architecture within is solid 
and heavy, rather than elegant ; and is altogether a favoura- 
ble example of the Norman taste. The arches over the side 
aisles are semicircular, while the vault over the nave is of the 
pointed Gothic form, but wanting altogether the lightness and 
grace of the style of which it is a hum_ble imitation. Some 



424 



JOURNAL. 



of the pillars are forty-seven feet in circumference, and orna- 
mented with a great variety of zig-zag chiselling. No two 
of them are alike, and the capitals are all carved in a differ- 
ent manner. The general effect is that of massive strength, 
capable of resisting for ages to come, as it has for centuries 
past, the slow-consuming hand of Time, which 

makes the column'd arches fail ; 



And structures hoar, the boast of years." 

A number of monuments are shown to the visiter, but none 
worthy of particular attention. The tutelary saint of the 
place, according to the monkish legends, was St. Cuihbert, 
Bishop of Lindisfarne in the seventh century. The monks 
of that place having been dislodged by the Danes, escaped 
into Scotland, carrying with them the treasure they most 
prized — the relics of the holy man. The saint was obliged 
to take some long and painful journeys, before he came to 
his final place of repose. At one time, he was shipped for 
Ireland, but was driven back by a tempest. At another, he 
made a halt at Norham ; then he reposed for a short time at 
Melrose ; but becoming weary of a state of inaction, he 
caused himself to be launched upon the Tweed in a stone 
coffin, in which he made a prosperous voyage down the river, 
and landed in Northumberland. Thence, he took an ex- 
cursion intoYorkshire ; 

" But after many wanderings past, 
He chose his lordly seat at last, 
Where his cathedral, huge and vast. 

Looks doM'n upon the Wear : 
There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 
His relicks are in secret laid ; 

But none may know the place." 

Satisfied with being in the neighbourhood of the saint, with- 
out knowing the precise spot where he reposes, 1 commenced 
an ascent to the top of the great square tower. Some idea 
may be formed of the thickness of the walls from the fact, 
that they contain the stair-cases and galleries by which the 
tower is ascended. Sometimes the passage was up a spiral 



CATHEDRAL OF DURHAM. 435 

stair-way in one of the angles, and then along a vaulted gal- 
lery leading to another angle. The tower is 212 feet in 
height, differing only one foot from that of York Minster ; 
and the walls at the top are three or four feet in thickness. 
The sun had just risen above the horizon ; the city all lay 
at my feet, with the windings and doublings of the river, 
whose thin, grey drapery of mist had not yet been entirely 
dispelled by his morning beams. The view from the tower 
is limited, in almost all directions, by ranges of hills ten or 
twelve miles distant ; and the city, as seen from this eleva- 
tion, or indeed from any point of view, presents but a mean 
appearance. Some of the stone bridges across the Wear, of 
which there are three or four, are fine, solid structures. The 
cathedral is built across the neck of a high, rocky peninsula, 
formed by a sudden turn in the river, whose banks are singu- 
larly precipitous, and fringed with wood. There is barely 
room for a path between either the eastern or western end, 
and the bluffs which overhang the river to the height of sixty 
or seventy feet. This site was selected probably because it 
admitted of being easily fortified ; a consideration not to be 
overlooked, at a time when the northern counties were 
ravaged in the frequent wars between the English and Scotch 
nations. A wall, castle and keep were built by William the 
Conqueror, without the cathedral, thus rendering the penin- 
sula secure from attack. The keep is now a venerable pile 
of ruins ; or rather, in that state of dilapidation which renders 
it a highly picturesque object ; the wall has mostly disap- 
peared ; and the castle, which is now the residence of the 
Bishop when at Durham, has been rebuilt at different times, 
and in every variety of taste. These remains of military 
fortifications, together with the extraordinary massiveness of 
the cathedral, itself a place of strength, when artillery was 
unknown, suggest images of battles and sieges, as well as of 
holy rehgious seclusion, not unaptly represented by the ge- 
nius of the Border Minstrel : — 

" Well yet I love thy mix'd and massive piles, 
Half church of God, half castle 'gainst the Scot ; 
And long to roam these venerable aisles, 
With records stored of deeds long since forgot. 
36* 



426 



JOURNAL. 



The houses of the Prebendaries occupy a quadrangle on 
the south side of the cathedral. The Prebends are said to 
be some of the richest in the kingdom. On the north is the 
Place Green, extending to the castle and the remains of the 
wall, which formerly defended the peninsula. Only one of 
the gate-ways has been preserved. It is a heavy lower of 
great strength, pierced by an arch, and defended by a port- 
cullis, and constructed with sally-ports and galleries for the 
annoyance of assailants. It is now converted into a prison. 

The walks about Durham are singularly beautiful, and 
afford a great variety of picturesque and romantick views. 

" Fair on the half-seen stream the sunbeams danced, 

Betraying it beneath the woodland bank, 
And fair between the Gothic turrets glanced 

Broad lights, and shadows fell on front and flank, 
Where tower and buttress rose in martial rank. 

And girdled in the massive donjon Keep." 

These objects are seen to peculiar advantage from the high 
bluffs on the western bank of the river opposite the cathedral. 
Indeed, the whole of the natural scenery about Durham is 
singularly wild and romantick. 

The Bishops of Durham formerly possessed a jurisdiction 
both in civil and military affairs, which constituted them, in 
fact, independent princes ; and it is still more ample than 
that belonging to any other See. Among the prelates whose 
brows have been graced by the mitre of St. Cuthbert, some 
have left behind them names dear to science, to virtue and 
religion. Butler is better known by his Analogy of Natural 
and Revealed Religion, than by his open-handed charities, 
which left, of his immense revenues, only sufficient to defray 
the expenses of his funeral. 

" Matthew and Morton we as such may own ; 
And such, if fame speak truth, the honoured Barrington." 

The city of Durham is irregularly built — the streets being in 
some degree conformed to the inequalities of the ground, 
and the very serpentine course of the Wear. The houses 
are generally old and uncouth, and present a striking con- 



NEWCASTLE. 427 

trast to the stateliness of the pubUc edifices. The popula- 
tion is about 8000. 

After making the best use of the short time I could spare, 
in viewing the antiquities of this picturesque city, I left it in 
the Newcastle coach, and passed some delightful situations 
on the banks of the Wear, as we drove out of the suburbs. 
Chester-le-street, a straggling village about seven or eight 
miles from Durham, contains little worthy of notice besides 
its extensive cannon foundry. About half a mile to the right, 
and in full view of the road, is Lambton Hall, a huge, quad- 
rangular, turreted old mansion, rising out of the bosom of 
Lumley Park, finely skirted in the distance by a grove of 
trees. Tlie road leads directly over Ayton Bank, a lofty 
hill commanding a distant view of the ocean ; while directly 
before us in the valley, appeared Newcastle, with " shadows, 
clouds and darkness resting upon it." The Tyne came 
winding down a pleasant vale on the left, on the south-west- 
ern bank of which, the snow-white towers of Ravensworth 
Castle were visible above the trees of the park. We had 
now got into the region of coal-mines, and passed several 
shafts veiy near the road, with steam engines pumping up 
the water, drawing coal out of the pits beneath, and hauling 
and letting down the cars, by which the coal is transported 
to the river. Descending the hill, we plunged into the dark 
mass of coal-dust and smoke that overhangs this dirty city ; 
and crossing the Tyne by a long stone bridge, clambered up 
a steep paved way to the " Turf Inn." Distance from Dur- 
ham about fifteen miles. 

I had letters to a gentleman interested in the coal-mines, 
which I was desirous of exploring ; but after a search of two 
or three hours, learned to my disappointment that he was not 
in town. It was now too late in the day for a subterranean 
expedition, and I had not another to spare. I accordingly 
passed the day in looking out the various objects of curiosity 
in this city of coals ; and was rewarded by the discovery 
of many interesting antiquities, though the research led me 
through more dirty alleys and heaps of filth, than would have 
served to cool the ardour of an antiquarian of moderate zeaL 



-428 JOURNAL. 

The city stands on both sides of the Tyne, but principally on 
the northern bank, which descends by a steep declivity to the 
water's edge. The higher streets are not inelegantly built ; 
while the lower ones are narrow, dark, and filthy in the ex- 
treme. The population amounts to about 30,000. 

Among the buildings of modern date, the new court-house, 
a solid Grecian structure of free-stone, presents an imposing 
appearance, as the city is entered from the Durham road. 
It is of large dimensions ; and its light, unsoiled colour forms 
a pleasing object, amidst the dun and irregular piles of 
houses, blackened with perpetual smoke. The church of 
St. Nicholas is remarkable for its light Gothic spire, support- 
ed by flying buttresses springing from the angles of the tow- 
er. The interior is wholly destitute of ornament, and has a 
comfortless appearance. 

Few cities in the north of England have been the theatre 
of more frequent sieges and sanguinary battles, than Newcas- 
tle. Of its ancient fortifications, there are still many relicks, 
to attest the military importance once attached to the place. 
On the brow of a hill in the western suburbs, rises a huge, 
square, Gothic tower, which seems to have been a Tceep or cit- 
adel to the walls, in the days of their strength. It is eighty 
feet in height, and the walls are at least twelve or fifteen feet 
in thickness. It has shared the fate of many other strong 
holds of olden time — that of being converted to the purpose 
of a county prison, although new ones are being erected in 
various parts of the city. The walls on this side are yet in 
tolerable preservation. They are about five feet thick, and 
ten or twelve in height. Formerly, they were strengthened 
with towers at short distances, most of which have been re- 
moved to make room, and supply materials, for the extension 
of the city. I commenced a perambulation of the walls ; but , 
got into more filth, and encountered more villainous odours, 
than it would be edifying to record, ere the exploit was accom- 
plished. Of the numerous convents and nunneries which 
once existed here, some traces yet remain. The house and 
church of the Black Friars are still standing ; and near the 
bridge is the chapel of Thomas a Becket, no otherwise re. 



NEWCASTLK. 429 

markable than as being of early date. The coUieries in 
this vicinity are among the most extensive in the kingdom. 
The hill which rises a mile or two south of the city is bored 
with a great number of shafts, the mouth of each being 
marked out to the distant spectator by the steam engine, the 
huge piles of coal, and the railway leading down to the river. 
The Tyne is not so wide as the Connecticut at Hartford ; it 
is navigable for shipping, and covered with little steam-boats 
as smutty as a coal-pit. Nev/castle was a Roman station ; 
and here commenced the famous wall, built by the emperor 
Hadrian, to defend the country against the incursions of the 
northern barbarians. Coins, and other relics of the same ad- 
venturous people, have been frequently dug up in the vicini- 
ty. The historical events, of v/hich Newcastle has been the 
scene, are numerous and interesting. Its name is derived 
from a strong fortification built by a younger son of the Con- 
queror, on his return from an expedition against the Scots. 
It was seized by the Earl of Northumberland, and attacked 
and reduced by William Rufus. The prowess of William 
Wallace was often directed against its ramparts without 
effect ; and about the middle of the fourteenth century, the 
Scottish &tmj was defeated before it with immense slaughter. 
The Covenanters, under the command of Leslie, got posses- 
sion of it, on the breaking out of the rebellion ; and it sus- 
tained another siege, when the power of parliament passed 
into the hands of Cromwell. Thus, is the history of these 
ancient cities little else than the history of battles, sieges, 
and murders. It bears no flattering testimony to the moral 
dignity of man, that his first care on building a city has been, 
to secure it against the violence of his brethren of the human 
family. In proportion to the strength of his intrenchments, 
he becomes an object of jealousy to his neighbours ; and 
his means of defence invite the destruction they were intend- 
ed to avert. How many blessings have resulted to the in- 
habitants of this island, from the union of the crowns of the 
two countries ! If the Scotch lost by it the empty pageantry 
of a court at Holyrood, they have gained the substantial 
blessing of peace, and the border cities are no longer be- 



430 JOURNAL. 

leaguered by hostile squadrons'. Such have been the fruits 
of " the sad and sorrowfu' union," so much lamented by the 
elder Covenanters, who used to sigh in secret over the right 
hand defections and left hand fallings away from reformation 
attainments, to the abominations of prelacy, and the scarcely 
more tolerable errors of the Kirk. 

Wednesday, Sept. 8th. — My bill, emblazoned as it v/as with 
a very edifying and characteristick engraving of the Newmar- 
ket races, was so extravagant, as to caution me in future 
against " Turf Inns." Having discharged it, more to the sat- 
isfaction of my host than my own, I set off in the coach at six 
o'clock, for "the land o' cakes." As we were leaving the 
suburbs, we passed a company of some hundred reapers, prin- 
cipally women, going into the country in search of employ- 
ment. I have before observed many similar parties on the 
road, but none so numerous as this. The mail route to Edin- 
burgh, through-Berwick, v/as described as being very dreary, 
and destitute of attractive objects ; which induced me to choose 
the more direct, but less frequented route by Kelso. We had 
a very mixed sort of a company on board ; but the two compan- 
ions with whom it was my fortune to ride were, a j'oung travel- 
ling Dutchman who spoke English remarkably weli^, and a lit- 
tle Scotchman, a knight of the oven, whose boast it was that 
he supplied a hundred families in London with the staff of life. 
The vvind was high from the eastward, portending a gathering 
tempest; and the smoke lay on the ground as thick as a fog. 
Our road lay for some miles over adreary plain, exhibiting a 
sterile soil in a very indifferent state of cultivation. About 
lifteen miles from Newcastle, we arrived at a dirty hole of a 
village, Morpeth byname, clustered on the banks of the Wans- 
beck, a small stream dignified with the name of a river. Not- 
withstanding its small size and mean appearance, it is a bo- 
rough and a market town ; and as it chanced to be market 
day, we had to make our way through herds of fat cattle and 
droves of sheep, with which the street was thronged. The ru- 
ins of Morpeth castle, once a place of some renown as a baro- 
nial fortress, overhang an eminence near the borough ; but I 
had no time to examine it. We snatched a hasty breakfast — 



FLODDEN FIELD. 431 

twenty minutes being the time usually allowed for making and 
devouring the meager tea and dry toast — and again took our 
seats. The sea was occasionally visible on our right, and the 
country grew more and more barren as we advanced. Cross- 
ing the Coquet, a pleasant little stream as clear as crystal, we 
began to approach the hilly country, the swells of which were 
covered with a brown looking heath, Rinside Moor, over 
which we passed, is a scene of the most cheerless desolation, 
bounded on the west by an amphitheatre of heathy hills. By 
this time, the clouds which had been hanging all the morning 
over the distant ocean, came rolling in upon us before a heavy 
gale, and contributed to heighten the dreariness of the scene. 
A wide, continuous heath was spread around, interspersed 
with swamps green with treacherous bogs, and stretching away 
to the sea on the right ; while on the left, and at no great dis- 
tance, rose the Cheviot Hills, whose peaks were lost in the 
dense clouds driven against them by the gale. The Aln riv- 
er, which we crossed by a stone bridge, was now little more 
than a dry channel ; but its banks had the appearance of be- 
ing sometimes overflowed by mountain torrents. Our road 
continued to lead through a very barren and uninviting coun- 
try. A few miles farther on, we passed " Percy's Cross," a 
rude obelisk of stone, erected in a rocky, broken field near the 
road. It was raised in commemoration of some battle, and 
probably on the spot where one of the Percy's fell. Passing 
Millfield, a hamlet near the little river Till, our road led us 
along the skirts of Flodden Field, immortalized in history by 
the sanguinary battle fought here in 1513, in which King 
James and the flower of the Scottish chivalry perished. It is 
a plain of considerable extent, limited on the north-west by a 
long hill of moderate elevation, the top of which is now cov- 
ered by a plantation of young trees. On the western skirt of 
the plain I'ises a steep eminence, which is said to have been 
occupied by the Scottish army, and which they did not leave 
till the English forces had crossed the Till a little lower down 
and by a skilful countermarch, had placed themselves in the 
rear of the Scottish king. The first mentioned hill, overlook- 
ing the field of battle, I of course selected as the station of 



432 , JOURNAL. 

Clara, under the charge of Blount and Fitz-Eustace, while 
the fight was raging in the plain below. The spring of" Si- 
byl Gre}'^," probably bubbled up near the base of the hill ; 
and hither the expiring Marmion was brought to breathe his 
last. To the east and south-east stretches the plain of Flod- 
den, on which the chivalry of England was set in array, on 
that day so fatal to the nobility of Scotland. It is now en- 
closed in well cultivated fields, and dotted with the humble 
habitations of the peasantry. Continuing our ride, we arriv- 
ed at Cornhill, a small hamlet, where we dined sumptuously 
on boiled salmon ; and a mile beyond, came to the Tweed, 
the boundary between England and Scotland. 

Contrary to my expectations, the scenery along the Tweed 
is of a soft and mild character, compared with that which we 
have left behind ; the farms are highly cultivated, and beauti- 
ful country seats are scattered along the banks, which are 
agreeably varied by green knolls and little glens, at the bot- 
tom of which a small stream often trickles down into the riv- 
er. The Tv/eed is here little more than half the breadth of 
the Connecticut at Hartford, and sweeps under the stone 
bridge with a rapid current. On the Scottish side, we enter- 
ed Coldstream, a large and well built village of free-stone, 
with a population of three or four thousand. It is the Gretna 
Green of disconsolate lovers in the eastern parts of England, 
the officiating priest being a toping cobbler. Leaving Cold- 
stream, we turned to the left, and ascended the river to Kelso, 
a distance of five or six miles. Many agreeable prospects 
occurred in this part of the ride, as the river with its wooded 
banks was generally in view. 

The village of Kelso occupies a delightful situation on the 
northern bank of the Tweed, just where it is joined by the Ti- 
vid. The houses are built around a public square, and on 
streets diverging from it as from a centre. Many of the build- 
ings are neat ; and the multitude of shady trees which are 
planted around the square and in the suburbs, give to the place 
an air of retirement and rural beauty. I had just time to 
take a view of the ruins of the Abbey, beautifully situated on 



LAMMERMOOR. 



433 



the margin of the river. The roof of the church has fallen 
in ; but some of the arches are entire, and indicate a Norman 
style of architecture. 

The road now diverged from the Tweed, and pursued a 
northerly direction, over a country growing more and more bar- 
ren. A few miles to the westward, the Eildon Hills rear their 
high, conical peaks into the air, naked of vegetation. Hume 
Castle, on the top of a hill ; and Thirlstane, a seat of the Earl 
of Lauderdale, embosomed in a narrow valley, were among the 
few objects of attraction which occurred ; the country gene- 
rally presenting little to the eye except barren moors, peat- 
bogs, and naked, swelling hills. The vdlage of Lauder has 
more the appearance of a range of barracks, than of comfort- 
able habitations for families. The sun set upon us while we 
were winding up a steep, narrow glen, to Lammermoor, a 
wide and desolate waste, without tree, or shrub, or enclosure, 
to break the dreary monotony of the scene. By this time, 
the twilight was fast gathering around, and the wind increas- 
ed to a tempest, driving the rain in sheets across the moor. 
Nothing could be more in harmony with the dismal tale of 
" the Bride of Lammermoor," than the circumstances under 
which we crossed it ; and my imagination was of course busy 
in assigning the localities of the " ower true tale." The scene 
of the tragedy lay a short distance to the left of the road, and 
farther up the glen, where the ruins of Ravenswood Castle 
still exist. The moor is an undulating surface of table land, 
of considerable extent ; and dreary and desolate to the last 
degree. We left it by a gentle descent, and soon arrived at 
Dalkeith, situated Ijetween the North and South Esk, and 
near their junction. Another hour brought us to Edinburgh, 
where we arrived, cold, wet, and fatigued, having rode about 
110 miles, and been sixteen hours on the coach under a most 
inclement sky. 

37 



434 JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XLVr. 



EDINBURGH BISHOP SANDFORD DR. BUCHANAN WALK TO LEITH— • 

HARBOUR DOCKS RETURN BY CALTON HILL — NELSOn's MONUMENT 

PROSPECT DR. DICKSON — HOUSES OF WORSHIP — ST. GILES' — EPIS- 
COPAL CLERGY ST. PAULs' AND ST. JOHNs' CHAPELS — OLD TOWN 

HIGH STREET — THE COWGATE BRIDGE STREET JOHN KNOX. 

Oct. 9th. — Through the kindness of my EngUsh friends, I 
had been provided with letters to a number of gentlemen in 
Edinburgh, and I lost no time in calling to deliver them. In 
the venerable Bishop Sandford, I became acquainted with 
a prelate of great personal worth, highly instructive in his 
conversation, and devoted to his Episcopal duties with all the 
ardour of a much younger man. In my subsequent visits at 
his house, I frequently met, in addition to his own family cir- 
circle, with much intelligent and agreeable company. The 
Bishop is slender in person, and has the pallid and care-worn 
features of a hard student, and a watchful and anxious over- 
seer of the church. It is needless to say that he is highly 
respected in Edinburgh. In addition to his Episcopal charge, 
he is minister of St. John's Chapel, one of the newly erected 
Episcopal edifices in Edinburgh. In Dr. Buchanan, minis- 
ter of the High Church, I also met with an accomplished and 
agreeable man, holding an eminent station in the Establish- 
ed Kirk of Scotland. 

Not being able to find some of the other gentlemen, to 
whom I had been furnished with letters, I took the road to 
Leith, the port of Edinburgh. The weather being clear, I 
enjoyed a charming view of the Forth, with its numerous 
islands and broken shores, from the long stone pier which 
stretches out into the harbour. Leith presents few objects 
of interest, except in a commercial point of view. The docks 
are constructed on a scale of magnificence, which I hardly 
expected to see in this northern metropolis. Two wet docks, 
each covering about five acres, have already been completed. 



EDINBURGH. 



435 



Connected with these, are three dry or graving docks, for 
the repair of vessels. The cost of the whole, including the 
purchase of the land and necessary bridges, amounted to 
nearly £300,000 sterUng. Another wet dock, equal in di- 
mensions to both of the others, has been projected. These 
magnificent and useful works were designed by Rennie, the 
architect of Waterloo Bridge. A martello tower rising from 
the sea about three-quarters of a mile from the pier, consti- 
tutes the defence of the harbour. The streets of Leith are 
narrow, dirty, and irregular ; and the houses generally old 
and paltry. Some new streets to the south and east are, 
however, built up with sufficient elegance. This place is 
about two miles from Edinburgh ; but the broad and beauti- 
ful road which leads to it will soon form one continued street, 
by the rapid increase of buildings. After walking through 
most of the streets in town, and contemplating the beautiful 
scenery of the Forth, its bays and bold headlands, and the 
low, broken shore of Fife, stretching along the farther side 
of the broad estuary, I returned by a circuitous rout to Cal- 
ton Hill, a steep, rocky eminence in the eastern suburbs of 
the city. The Observatory and Nelson's Monument crown 
the summit of the hill. The latter, a lofty circular pillar, is 
one of the most conspicuous objects in the neighbourhood of 
Edinburgh. The city, from this eminence, is seen below as 
if it were deUneated on a map ; and the Frith of the river, ex- 
panding into a broad and glassy surface as it stretches away 
towards the sea — the shipping, some swinging idly at anchor, 
and others gliding over the blue depths under a press of sail ; 
and the mountain scenery around, present a succession of 
objects of a most diversified and pleasing character. The 
area of the top of the hill is scarcely an acre ; and the de- 
scent on every side is steep, and in some places precipitous. 
A winding road has, however, been dug through the rocks, 
by which carriages may ascend with facility. The site of 
the National Monument, which is to be erected in honour of 
British heroism displayed during the late war, has been mark- 
ed out, and the corner stone was laid about two years ago. 
The building is to be an exact copy of the Parthenon or the 



**»" JOaRiNAL. 

Acropolis at Athens. No progress has yet been made in the 
erection of the walls. 

Descending from the hill, I proceeded in my walk about 
the city, with that indecision of purpose to which no traveller 
I presume is always a stranger. I made a circuit around 
the Castle — threaded the narrow streets, and still narrow- 
er wynds of " Auld Town" — was jostled by caddies and 
bare-legged gillies — got unwittingly into the atmosphere of 
Various unsavoury smells, for which this part of the city is 
famous, in searching after the picturesque ; and returned at 
length to my lodgings, admonished by the aching of my 
limbs, that I had not recovered from the effects of the pre- 
vious day's drenching and exposure to the cold. 

The clergy of the established Kirk, with whom I have be- 
come acquainted here, are all men of agreeable and polished 
thanners. Mixing constantly with the best society, they ac- 
quire the urbanity and ease of men of the world ; and if 
there yet linger among the Scottish clergy any remains of 
the old Cameronian spirit, they must be sought, I apprehend, 
among the poor remnants of that once famous sect. Indeed, 
it is understood that the theology of the Kirk has insensibly 
undergone a change within the last half century ; a milder 
and more benevolent tone of doctrine having taken the place 
of the stern metaphysicks of Geneva — the strong meat in 
which the members of the Kirk once delighted. Admitting 
such a change to have taken place, it could scarcely be with- 
out its effect on the manners of the clergy. With Dr. Dick- 
son of the West Kirk, the colleague of the venerable Sir 
Henry Moncrieff, I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted ; 
and was no less delighted with his frank and cheerful man- 
ners, than with his sprightly conversation. On one of my 
visits to his house, he took me to his meeting-house at the 
foot of Castle Hill, the largest, he said, in Edinburgh. The 
architecture has not the least pretensions to elegance, and 
the finishing within is in the plainest style. I could have 
easily fancied myself in one of the old meeting-houses in 
Connecticut ; the interior arrangements being precisely the 
samO;, 



ST. GILES' CHURCH. 437 

The Episcopalians are already a numerous and highly re- 
spectable body in Edinburgh ; and their Liturgy and impres- 
sive rites of religion are daily growing more and more popu- 
lar with moderate and intelligent m.en. They have seven 
houses of worship in Edinburgh and Leith. The most beauti- 
ful of these are St. John's Chapel, Prince's Street, in which 
the Bishop officiates ; and St. Paul's Chapel, York Place, of 
which Mr. Alison is minister. The former of these was 
erected at an expense of £15,000 sterling, and the latter of 
£12,000. The funds were raised by voluntary subscription. 
Both are in the Gothic style, and were finished in 1818. The 
Presbyterian Kirk 5eing the established church of Scotland, 
the Episcopalians are of course ranked among the dissenters, 
and their house? of worship are termed chapels. The Kirk 
has twenty-four places of worship in Edinburgh, including 
chapels of esse ; and the Secession church, nine. The 
whole numbA' of buildings for divine worship in Edinburgh 
and the poit of Leith is sixty-four, to a population of about 
140,000. 

One o the most remarkable objects in Edinburgh is St. 
Giles' Church, an ancient Gothic fabrick, standing on an 
elevat/d part of High Street as it leads up to the Castle. It 
is upvards of 200 feet in length, and seems to have been 
buil at different times, in utter contempt of all symmetry 
ani regularity. The windows are of all forms and sizes, 
aid have the appearance of having been let into the walls 
tvherever more light was wanted, and without the least re- 
gard to arrangement. Four or five churches of various 
plans and dimensions, brought into juxta-position, would con^ 
vey no bad idea of St. Giles' Church, which in fact contains 
four separate places of worship, besides smaller divisions for 
various public offices. Dr. Jameson's meeting-house, and 
the Roman Catholic Chapel, have both very handsome Gothic 
fronts, and are of recent erection. Besides these, many of 
the new churches and chapels in the New Town exhibit 
elegant examples of Grecian architecture. The Episcopal 
clergy of Edinburgh, with whom I had opportunities of in- 
tercouse, are men of intelligence and pleasing manners, and 
37* 



438 JOURNAL. 

apparently much devoted to the duties of their profession- 
To Dr. Walker of Edinburgh, and Dr. Russell of Leith, I 
am indebted for many civilities, and much information rela- 
tive to the state of the Episcopal Church in Scotland. Its 
clergy are supported by their congregations. In addition 
to this source of income, a general fund has been raised by 
subscription, under the management of trustees ; the interest 
of which is divided into annual stipends, as the extent of the 
fund, and the exigencies of the case may require. There 
are six dioceses in the whole country, each superintended by 
its own bishop ; and the places of worsVap amount to nearly 
sixty. I attended worship on Sunday mot-ning at St. Peter's 
chapel, where Dr. Walker preaches to a snail congregation ; 
and in the afternoon went to St. Paul's, in Ue hope of hear- 
ing the celebrated Mr. Alison. In this I wa^ disappointed. 

His pulpit was occupied by the Rev. Mr. S , of Upper 

Canada, vAio seemed to have prepared a discmrse for the 
occasion, in Mr. Alison's own style. His text — " Art thou 
my very son Esau ? And he said, I am" — might lave given 
occasion, one would suppose, to introduce some iseful re- 
flections on the mischiefs of parental partiality, andthe tur- 
pitude of falsehood. No such thing. The sermon was a 
tissue of sentimentalism and affectation, abounding in jretty 
conceits, but wholly without point. Mr. Alison was present 
-^a good looking, portly personage, with a head venersiily 
gray. Although in connection with the Scottish Episcopal 
Church, he is considered by his clerical brethren as falling 
far short of the doctrinal standards of the church, in which 
he holds a place. His sermons, like Dr. Blair's, have had 
their day, and no longer retain a place on the shelves o'f 
Christian Theology. St. Paul's chapel, as has already been 
-remarked, is a very neat and beautiful Gothic structure. 
Its dimensions within are 105 feet by 63. The ceiling of 
the nave is a flat Gothic arch covered with ornamented trace- 
ry mouldings, and rising 46 feet from the floor. The chancel 
window is adorned with painted glass, which has an agreea- 
ble^ but not a splendid effect. St. John's Chapel is of nearly 
the same dimensions, but of more costly workmanship. Il 



HIGH STREET. 



439 



is without galleries ; and the upper story and roof are sup- 
ported by a double row of very light Gothic columns. 

The Old and New Towns of Edinburgh are completely 
separated by the North Loch, a deep and narrow valley once 
filled with water, which has been drained off in the course of 
the improvement and extension of the city. The general 
direction of this valley, from the foot of Calton Hill, is a 
little to the south of west, the Old Town lying wholly on the 
south side of it, and the New Town on the north. The 
principal street in the Old Town is High Street, commencing 
near Holy rood House on the eas', and extending westward 
along a ridge which gradually ascends, till it reaches the 
Castle situated on a bluff, inaccessible on all sides except in 
the direction of High Street. Its width is very unequal, and 
it bears a variety of names. Next the castle it is called 
Castle Hill ; farther down, the Lawn-market ; then the 
Luckenbooths ; then High Street ; while the narrow eastern 
section running down to the palace of Holyrood, takes the 
name of the Canongate. The high houses for which Ed- 
inburgh Old Town is famed, are situated principally on the 
steep bank which slopes down from High Street into North 
Loch ; but the stories one meets with in the journals of 
travellers are calculated to mislead the unwary reader. The 
principal buildings are in fact only four or five stories higl^ 
in front ; but standing on a steep bank, the rear walls are 
sometimes much higher. In two or three instances 1 count- 
ed eleven tiers of windows one above another ; but those 
nearest the ground were very low. The house of John 
Knox, one of the oldest stone houses in Edinburgh, stands 
on the north side of the foot of High Street ; and project- 
ing far in advance of the rest, reduces it to nearly one half 
its width. A human figure, uncouthly sculptured in alto 
relievo, and pointing upwards towards a radiated stone, with 
the name of the Deity engraved upon it in different lan- 
guages, decorates the western front. 

Parallel with High Street, but farther south, and in a val- 
ley, is the Cowgate, a street from ten to twenty feet broad, 
mid extremely dark and dirty. It is of about the same 



440 



JOURNAL. 



length with High Street, and terminates in the Grass-market 
on the south side of Castle Hill. The Wynds and Closes 
Avhich communicate between these two streets are dark, 
steep, and difficult of passage, to say nothing of the unsavou- 
ry atmosphere which exhales from the heaps of filth, with 
which the pavements are strewed. In the Scottish terminol- 
ogy, a Wynd is a lane wide enough to admit a carriage ; 
while a Close is an alley for foot-passengers only. 

The principal street which traverses the abovementioned 
is the North and South Bridge Street. By the North Bridge, 
thrown across the North Loch in front of the Register Office, 
it communicates with the New Town ; while by the South 
Bridge, it is carried over the Cowgate, the latter street being 
seen at a distance below. The North Bridge is a noble and 
expensive work. It is upwards of eleven hundred feet long, 
fifty feet wide, and sixty-eight feet in height from the bottom 
of the Loch to the top of the parapet. It rests on three 
great central arches, with several smaller ones at the ends. 

To the southward of the Cowgate, the ground rises again ; 
and in this quarter of the city are situated the College, a 
variety of hospitals and publick institutions, with many 
houses of worship of very unpretending appearance. The 
Scotch Reformers seem to have been at war with every kind 
of magnificence in houses dedicated to the service of God. 
Not satisfied that any of the religious houses should remain 
entire, Knox daily harangued against " the monuments of 
idolatry" they contained ; and insisted with such flaming 
zeal, that the " surest means of driving the rooks away 
was to pull down their nests," that the cloisters and abbey 
churches throughout the land were levelled with the ground. 
Thus after clearing the country of popery, they found it 
necessary to commence rebuilding the edifices they had de- 
stroyed in their fiery indignation ; or rather, they supplied 
their places with new ones, as mean as the former were mag- 
nificent. It was with great difficulty that the venerable St. 
Giles' was saved from the destruction with which it was 
threatened by " the Army of the Congregation." They 
seized on the statue of the tutelary saint — dispersed the 



NEW TOWN. 441 

priests and monks, and tore the effigy in pieces ; at which 
feat, Knox expressed himself greatly satisfied. " Then," 
said he, " Dagon was left without head or hands ; down 
goes the cross ; off go the surplices, round caps, and coro- 
nets with the crowns. The grayfriars gaped ; the black 
friars blew ; the priests panted and fled ; and happy was he 
that got first to the house ; for such a sudden fray came 
never among the generations of Antichrist within this realm 
before." 



CHAPTER XLVII. 



EDINBURGH NEW TOWN PRINCe's STREET — REGENT BRIDGE GEORGK 

STREET LORD MELVILLe's MONUMENT THE CASTI-.E — -PORTOBELLO 

— ST. Anthony's chapel — Salisbury crags — Arthur's seat — 

CRAIGMILLAR CASTLE HOLYROOD HOUSE — ROYAL CHAPEL CEMETE- 
RY OF SCOTTISH KINGS— LEGEND OF THE ABBEY — QUEEN MARY's APART- 
MENTS FURNITURE MURDER OF RIZZIO — TRACES OF BLOOD ON THB 

FLOOR PICTURE GALLERY. 

The northern district of the city, usually called the New 
Town, is in all respects a perfect contrast to the old part of 
Edinburgh. Crossing the North Loch, the spectator finds 
himself in Prince's street, a noble terrace running from east 
to west along the margin of the Loch, above which it is ele- 
vated fifty or sixty feet. To the eastward, the Loch makes a 
turn to the north at the foot of Calton Hill, where it is cross- 
ed by Prince's Street, terminating in Regent Road, which 
winds around the southern base of the hill. Regent Bridge, 
extending across the Loch, is altogether a magnificent work. 
It is nearly sixty feet in height, and is perforated by one large 
arch, beneath which passes Calton Street, at the bottom of 
the ravine. The street built along Regent bridge is called 
Waterloo Place ; and as some of the houses rise out of the 



442 JOURxNAL. 

valley below, they are eight or ten stories in height as seen 
from the rear. The Waterloo Tavern and Hotel is a splen- 
did structure, erected on the eastern part of the Bridge, at an 
expense of more than 130,000 dollars. 

Returning to that part of the New Town which faces Cas- 
tle Hill, the traveller is struck with the air of solid magnifi- 
cence apparent in the various buildings, all of which are con- 
structed of hewn stone of a light grey colour. Parallel with 
Prince's Street, and farther north, is George Street, one of 
the most magnificent in Europe. It is 115 feet broad, and is 
unrivalled for the elegance and uniformity of its architecture. 
The view from this street is terminated to the eastward by 
Lord Melville's Monument standing in the midst of St. An- 
drew's Square ; arid to the westward by Charlotte Square, faced 
by superb buildings, with St. George's Church directly in front. 
This is a very handsome Grecian edifice, with a miniature 
dome in imitation of St. Paul's. Lord Melville's Monument 
is a fluted pillar, upwards of 130 feet in height, intended to 
support a statue of that nobleman on the top. The form of 
the pillar and pedestal is taken from that of Trajan at Rome. 
It is ascended by a spiral stair-case within. Parallel with 
George Street, and still farther north, is Queen Street, form- 
ing a terrace which overlooks Queen's Gardens. These are 
planted with shrubbery, and lie on the slope of the hill as it 
descends towards Leith. Nothing can exceed the regulari- 
ty and beauty of the part of the New Town just described. 
The additions which are now being made to the north and 
west are in a style of great neatness and beauty, though want- 
ing the perfect uniformity of the fore -mentioned streets. The 
New Town of Edinburgh has been erected during the last 
half century. The Old Town will always, however, possess 
a superior degree of interest, from the peculiarity of its situ- 
ation, and the scenes in the early history of Scotland, of 
which it has been the theatre. Its narrow streets and wynds, 
and high houses, calculated to accommodate the greatest 
amount of population under the protection of the Castle, nat- 
urally lead the imagination back to those unsettled times, when 
the Scottish nobles and barons, in their wars with the En- 



EDINBURGH CASTLE. 443 

glish, were driven from their burning castles to seek arefbge 
under the guns of the fortifications in the metropolis. 

The most conspicuous object in the Old Town is the Cas- 
tle. It stands on a high, rocky bluff, inaccessible from all 
quarters except High Street, from the buildings of which it 
is separated by an esplanade about one hundred yards across. 
The top of the rock is elevated about one hundred and fifty 
feet above the New Town, and more than two hundred above 
the North Loch, which stretches along its northern base. 
The entrance from High Street is by a strong palisade, a 
dry ditch and draw-bridge, flanking batteries, and two gate- 
ways in the castle walls, defended by portcullises. The for- 
tifications correspond with none of the rules of art, being built 
according to the irregular form of the precipice on which they 
stand. The area covered by them is about seven acres, and 
they extend all round quite to the verge of the precipice. 
Various batteries were constructed in former days for the an- 
noyance of besiegers ; but in the times of peace which fol- 
lowed the last hopeless efforts of the Pretender, they w^ere 
gradually dismantled, and only a few guns are now mounted 
on the ramparts, to announce a royal birth-day, or ratify a 
patriotic toast. The buildings within the Castle consist of 
the Governor's house, a chapel for the garrison, with the ne- 
cessary complement of barracks, guard-rooms, store-houses 
and arsenals. In the south-eastern angle is shown a small 
room, in which Mary, Queen of Scots, was delivered of her 
only son, James VI., under whom, the crowns of England and 
Scotland were afterwards united. The Castle would be ac- 
counted a place of little strength, since the modern improve- 
ments in artillery ; as it would be exposed to great annoyance 
from the heights of Calton Hill and Salisbury Crag. It made 
a long and obstinate defence, however, under Kirkaldy of 
Grange, who held it for Queen Mary ; and another, in 1650, 
against the parliamentary army commanded by Cromwell. 
It is now merely a station for soldiers quartered in this part 
of the kingdom. 

Having letters to a gentleman at Portobello, I took advan- 
tage of a pleasant morning to call and deliver them. A walk 



444 JOURNAL. 

of abcut three miles brought me to the village, very agreea- 
bly situated on the Frith of Forth, to the eastward of Edin- 
burgh. It contains some neat streets, and many handsome 
villas ; and is much resorted to in the summer season as a 
bathing place. Walking along the beach, 1 saw a number 
of persons diverting themselves in the surf, although a strong 
bracing breeze was blowing in from the sea, as cold as a New 
England blast in October. On my return, I made a circuit 
by St. Anthony's Chapel and Hermitage, and the celebrated 
Salisbury Crags. The former is a pile of ruins, romantically 
situated on an eminence near the base of Arthur's Seat, and 
commanding a fine view of the metropolis. From the char- 
acter of the ruins, it would appear, that the saint had satisfied 
himself with lodgings of a very rude and humble description. 
Continuing my walk, 1 ascended Salisbury Crag on the 
north side, and was amply repaid by the charming view from 
the summit. These celebrated Crags present a range of pre- 
cipitous rocks, bent in the form of the point of a horse-shoe, 
with the apex towards the city, and have much the appear- 
ance at a distance of a mural crown. In the rear, the ground 
slopes by a rapid descent, forming a singularly retired hollow, 
known by the denomination of The Hunter's Bog. Standing 
on the highest point of the ledge, which rises 550 feet above 
the level of the sea, the city, partially concealed by smoke, 
lay before me ; while the distant prospect was cheered by the 
flashing waves of the Forth, with its winding shores, islets, 
and headlands ; the sails dancing over its waters ; and the bold 
and broken swell of the mountains of Perthshire. Behind me 
rose Arthur's Seat to the height of more than 800 feet, with 
here and there a pilgrim slowly toiling up its sides, or paus- 
ing to recover breath, or turning to explore the new and more 
distant prospects which every step revealed. This mountain 
is of a conical shape, rounded at the top ; and its dreary sur- 
face is unrelieved by tree or shrub. Being pressed for time, 
I was obliged to content myself with a more limited excur- 
sion, and continued my walk along the brow of the precipice 
to the southern extremity of the hill. Here is a small ridge 
(pf rocks, noted for producing a remarkable echo ; and a little 



SALISBURY CRAG. 445 

to the eastward, is a range of basaltic columns, of a pentago- 
nal or hexagonal form, fifty feet in height. I returned along 
a walk formed a few years ago at the base of the perpendic- 
ular face of the Crag, on the debris which has been accumu- 
lating for ages by portions of the rock shelling off. The 
views from this walk are singularly beautiful and varied. 
The greenstone, of which the hill is composed, affords an in- 
exhaustible supply of stones for paving the city. It was in 
the hollow, between Salisbury Crag and Arthur's Seat, that 
Prince Charles's army of Highlanders bivouacked, when they 
had possession of Edinburgh, in the rebellion of '45. The 
admirers of the Scottish novels will also recollect, that some 
of the scenes in the Heart of Mid-Lothian are laid in this 
neighbourhood. The whole of Arthur's Seat and Salisbury 
Crag was enclosed by a wall, in the reign of James V., and 
is about three miles in circumference. This enclosure still 
goes by the name of the King's Park, and presents an uncom- 
mon variety of landscape. 

To the southward of Edinburgh, Hope Park and Bruns- 
field Links afford some beautiful promenades for the citizens. 
Beyond, the face of the country is undulating, until it reach- 
es the base of the Corstorphine and Pentland Hills, about 
three or four miles from the metropolis, A number of gen- 
tleman's country seats, and some ruins of castles, contribute 
to enliven a scene otherwise rather barren and uninteresting. 
Craigmillar Castle is still a noble ruin, about three miles 
south of Edinburgh, It was the frequent residence of Queen 
Mary after her return from France. The city is skirted on 
the north-western side by the Water of Leith, a stream of no 
great dimensions, which discharges itself at the port of Leith. 
Beyond this, the ground gradually descends to the estuary of 
the Forth, about two miles distance from the centre of the 
metropolis. 

Holyroodhouse is an object of too much interest long to 
escape the notice of a stranger. With an imagination exci- 
ted by recollections of what I had read in childhood of this 
palace of Scottish kings, I explored the environs of the city, 
in expectation of finding an edifice, magnificent and beauti- 
38 



446 JOURNAL. 

fui in its decay, of large dimensions, and rich in the decora- 
tions of its splendid Gothic architecture. At length I dis- 
covered, at the foot of the Canongate, in the eastern ex- 
tremity of the city, and in the lowest part of the valley which 
winds round the base of Salisbury Crag, a clusture of di- 
minutive circular turrets, rising out of a pile of steep roofs 
and clumsy battlements. And this, thought I, is Holyrood- 
house, the seat of the ancient kings of Scotland, the place 
where the gay and chivalrous James IV. held his martial 
court, the theatre of Mary's follies, perchance of her crimes, 
too deeply and fatally avenged. 

I was conducted by a lassie to the ruins of the Abbey and 
Royal Chapel, at the north-west angle of the palace. The 
Abbey has, in fact, entirely disappeared ; and nothing re- 
mains of the chapel but a part of one of the towers, one of 
the side-walls, with its buttresses, of half its original height, 
and the eastern gable in tolerable preservation. The mull- 
ions of the chancel window have been replaced within a few 
years in their original form, and are very beautiful. The 
zig-zag mouldings, by which some of the arches are border- 
ed, indicate an early date of architecture, before the charac- 
teristicks of the Saxon taste had been wholly lost. The area 
of the church was used as a cemetery of the royal dead. Their 
tombs were broken open at the revolution ; their leaden cof- 
fins carried away and plundered ; and the royal relicks made 
the sport of a fanatical populace. Some of the bones were 
collected, however, and are now locked up in the royal vault 
in the south-east comer of the chapel. Among them were 
some of a large size, said to be those of Lord Darnley. The 
appearance of these ruins is damp, cheerless and desolate, in 
an oppressive degree. 

The Abbey, once of large extent, was destroyed by the 
English, in the reign of Henry VIII. A pious legend re- 
lates the history of its origin and name, to tlie following pur- 
pose. Early in the twelfth century, King David I., hunting 
on this spot, which was then a forest, was attacked by an in- 
furiated buck, and his life put in imminent danger. While 
defending himself against the horns of his formidable antag- 



HOLYROODHOUSE. 



447 



onist, he suddenly found hiraself brandishing a shining cross 
instead of a hunting spear, miraculously slipped into his, 
hand ; and with this unusual weapon, ho quickly put the stag 
to flight. A dream with which he was visited on the follow- 
ing night, instructed him what was the nature of the return 
fie was required to make for so signal a deliverance. It was, 
to erect a house for canons regular, on the spot where he was 
«o seasonably armed with the celestial cross ; and to dedi- 
cate it to the honour of the Holy Rood or Cross, to which 
he owed his life. It was unlucky that the incident happened 
in the midst of a swamp ; but that was a matter not left to 
David's discretion. This good-natured, weak-minded prince, 
was very pious withal, as piety went in those days ; that is, 
he was the mere tool of his spiritual guides, and " a sair 
sanct to the crown," as James VI. termed him for his lib- 
erality to the religious orders. Holyrood Abbey was erected, 
and bestowed on the canons regular of St. Augustine ; 
whence the denomination Canongate given to the street 
leading to it ; and the adoption of a hart's head surmounted 
by a cross, in remembrance of the miracle, as the arms of the 
religious house. 

Leaving the cemetery of Scottish kings and nobles, whose 
blazoned arms are fast mouldering into dust ; I requested, {<? 
be shown the apartments of Queen Mary. " And ve'll no 
see the hoose, and the pictcr gallery ?" — asked my attend- 
ant in affected surprise. It is necessary to be on one's 
guard against the tricks of these conductors and conduct- 
resses ; and I readily conjectured the reason of beinp- shown 
the picture gallery first. For the convenience, doubtless, of 
Ihe traveller, but greatly to the disadvantage of his purse, 
the curiosities of Holyroodhouse are portioned off into dis- 
tricts, each having its presiding divinity to receive visiters 
and conduct them in penetralia. The fees of course must 
be as numerous as the guides, and amount to five or six shil- 
lings in all. It is, therefore, good policy to keep the visiter 

as long as possible from the chief attractions of Holyrood 

the apartments of the unfortunate queen ; lest having seen 
these ho should be indifferen': about the rest. After some 



448 



JOURNAL. 



altercation, I was given in charge to the priestess who pre- 
sides over Queen Mary's rooms, in the north-west angle of 
the palace. 

The first room into which the visiter is shown is the audi- 
ence chamber, a dark low apartment, hung round with tatter- 
ed tapestry, and furnished as in the days when Mary held 
her court here. The fire-place, bating a few attempts at 
finery, is much like one in a farmer's kitchen. The origi- 
nal grate still remains, a rough piece of furniture of wrought 
iron, av/kwardly surmounted by a knot of strips of iron, 
twisted into the form of a thistle. In this room is a portrait 
of Mary, taken in France when she was but sixteen years 
old, very stiff and faded. The ceiling is of Gothic panels, 
but so low that it may almost be touched with the hand. 
The bed-chamber, into which the visiter is next introduced, 
is furnished with chairs embroidered by the queen and her 
maids ; but a working-box, with Jacob's ladder wrought ia 
needle-v/ork on the Ud, by the queen's own fingers, is not 
the least worthy of inspection among the curiosities of the 
place. This royal production is equalled only by certain 
pastoral landscapes and mourning pieces, hung up on the 
parlour walls in Connecticut ; the admired productions of 
Miss while at the boarding school. The bed remains in 
statu quo. It is of crimson damask, bordered with green 
silk fringes and tassels, and is almost in tatters. Observing 
a small door in the wall, I opened it, and entered the narrow 
passage and trap-stair, through Vt'hich Darnley introduced 
the conspirators, v/ith Lord Ruthven at their head, to assas- 
sinate Rizzio. The bed-room opens into a little closet, not 
more than twelve feet square, where the queen was at sup- 
per with the Countess of Argyle, Rizzio, and a few domes- 
ticks, when this inhuman act was perpetrated. Here are 
kept a boot and spur, once belonging to Lord Darnley ; his 
iron helmet, gauntlet, spear, and sword-belt of buff leather. 
By induing myself in these implements, I was satisfied that 
they were once worn by a man of more herculean propor- 
tions than are produced in these degenerate days. The 
boot of Spanish leather has a very high heel ; the toe is 



ASSASSINATION OP RIZZIO. 449 

broad and square ; and the top full, and made to turn over 
and hang loosely below the knee. Returning through the 
apartment first described, I stopped in the little ante-chamber 
at the head of the principal stair-case, where Rizzio is said 
to have expired under the daggers of the assassins. That 
there are a number of spots on the floor which might have 
been caused by blood, is evident. The floor is of deal, a 
species of wood well calculated to absorb and retain any 
colouring matter which might be thrown upon it. The 
blotches, which are of light brown, are strewed around in 
two or three places ; and as they are found on the spot 
where Rizzio is said to have been pierced with more than 
fifty wounds, it is certainly not unreasonable to suppose that 
they are genuine witnesses of the tragical scene. What 
renders this conclusion still more probable is, that the ante- 
chamber in which these traces are seen, has been partition- 
ed off from the large apartment, much to the detriment of 
the latter, and Vv'ithout any apparent cause, except it was to 
'hide so revolting a spectacle as the stains of human blood 
on the floor of an apartment. The whole suite of rooms 
occupied by the Queen, is dark, cold, and cheerless. 

The picture gallery, wiiicli I next visited, is altogether a 
poor affair. It contains a series of portraits of all the kings 
of Scotland, drawn wholly after the imagination of the artist, 
with the name of each monarch duly inscribed upon the 
picture. It is a pity that so much oil and canvass should 
have been consumed to so little purpose. A few portraits 
by some of the English masters are tolerably good. In this 
hall or gallery are held the elections of the Scottish peers. 
The apartment is about one hundred and fifty feet long, and 
without any pretensions to elegance. 

By this time, I was pretty well tired of the long recitations 
of my guides ; and in being dismissed from the gallery sup- 
posed I should be allowed to depart. But the guardians of 
the place had ordered the matter otherwise ; and instead of 
being conducted through the intricate passages to the door, 
I was led into a room fitted up in modern style, with some 
very ordinary paintings hanging against the wall, under the 
■ 38* 



450 JOURNAL. 

care of another high priestess, prepared to retail her shil- 
ling's worth of knowledge. As I cared not a farthing for 
the present Duke of Hamilton's mahogany chairs and sofas, 
I signified to my divinity, who was putting herself in an ora- 
torical attitude to explain every thing to my satisfaction, my 
wish to escape. " What, mon ! Then ye suld na have come 
in here, if ye did na wish to see the hoose." — I informed her 
that it was with no good will of mine, that I had got within 
the purlieus of her dominion ; and accordingly received a 
very unceremonious dismissal, leaving behind another un- 
fortunate stranger, who seemed to have meekly and rever- 
ently resigned himself to her guidance, and was prepared to 
view with becoming wonder the apartments in which his 
Grace the Duke sometimes condescends to eat and sleep. 
Strangers will do well to confine their curiosity to the ruins 
of the chapel and the apartments of the queen : the rest of 
Holyroodhouse being quite a modern affair, with the excep- 
tion of the bare walls. It is a building of a quadrangular 
form, enclosing an open court nearly a hundred feet square. 
The western front consists of two large square castellated 
towers, four stories high, joined by a lower gallery, with a flat 
roof and double balustrade. The towers have each three 
circular turrets at their exterior angles, with a parapet and 
conical pinnacle at the top. They are Gothic, so far as they 
can be said to partake of any style in particular ; while the 
Doric order generally prevails in other parts of the build- 
ing. Plain, heavy, and unimposing in its external appear- 
ance, it owes its celebrity to its having been a royal resi- 
dence, while Scotland remained a separate and independent 
nation. 



DALKEITH. 451 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 



DALKEITH DALKEITH HOUSE — MELVILLE CASTLE LASSWADE HAW- 

THORNDEN ADVENTURES, &C. ROSLIN CASTLE CHAPEL — RUINS 

SCENERY RETURN TO EDINBURGH DINNER AT DR. H 's VACA- 
TIONS. 

Having heard much of the beautiful scenery on the banks 
of the Esk, I directed the porter to call rae at day-light, that 
I might be in time for the coach to Dalkeith. Every one, 
who has committed his comfort to the keeping of a stage- 
coach, has a lively recollection of the disturbing effects on 
the nerves, produced by a loud rap on the door, in the midst 
of a sound sleep — how he starts bolt upright at the unwel- 
come sound — wonders what it can mean — then recollects his 
engagement — determines, in a moment of ill-humour, to fore- 
go the picturesque for another delicious nap — ^thinks better 
of it, and proceeds doggedly to indue himself in his habili- 
ments. But — 



" The charm dissolves apace ; 

And, as the morning steals upon the night, 
Melting the darkness ; so his rising senses 
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
His clearer reason." 

Taking my seat on the top of the coach, while the grey twi- 
light was scarcely spread upon the hills, I set oiF upon the 
road to Dalkeith. It was the same as that by which I had 
entered Edinburgh, sweeping round the base of Arthur's Seat 
by a gentle curve, and leading over an undulating country. 
Like all the roads around the metropolis, it is Macadamized, 
and of course excellent. A ride of five or six miles brought 
us to the bank of the North Esk, down which the road de- 
scends by a winding track, presenting various views of the river 
and valley and the woody park of Dalkeith House. Cross- 
ing the stream, which is here ten or fifteen yards broad, we 
entered Dalkeith, and I was comfortably deposited in a stable- 



^53 . JOURNAL. 

pard, before the publick houses were opened, or any of the 
inhabitants had left their couches. My present accommoda- 
tions were not so inviting as to detain me from a ramble 
about town until breakfast time. Dalkeith is composed of a 
few broad and well paved streets, kept in a state of tolerable 
neatness ; and ranges of low, stone houses, not at all remark- 
able for the latteT quality. I followed an avenue leading out 
of the suburbs, till it brought me to the entrance of the park. 
The sun had by this time arisen upon the fine large trees 
which adorn the park, and awakened the song of the lav'rock 
and the mavis. A foot-path courses along the south-eastern 
wall, and descends the bank to the bridge over the South 
Esk, spanning a deep woody glen, in which the stream is 
soon lost beneath rocks and the thick overhanging foliage. 
Dalkeith House is the seat of the Duke of Buccleuch, and 
stands on the point formed by the junction of the two rivers, 
on the site of an ancient castle of the Douglases, It has 
few pretensions to elegance or beauty, but displays that cum- 
brous majesty which is produced by amplitude without pr«- 
portion. Like Tillietudlem, it has been honoured with the 
presence of royalty ; " his most sacred majesty having con- 
descended to take his disjune," or rather, to take up his resi- 
dence at Dalkeith House, during his late visit to Scotland. 
After viewing these beautiful grounds from a variety of 
points, I returned to the village, and made good my entrance 
into a house of entertainment, amidst the flapping of carpets, 
the twirling of mops, and the flourish of brooms. 

After breakfast, I set off" on my walk in the direction of 
Roslin Castle, on one of those days of altei'nate sunshine and 
clouds, which one would always desire when going to look 
at beautiful scenery. My road lay over a plain leading up 
the stream^of the North Esk ; but I soon left it, to follow the 
winding and broken banks, and to get a peep at Melville 
Castle, the seat of Lord Melville. The principal building is 
square, with a round tower at each angle ; and crowned with 
battlements in imitation of the old Gothic castles. It is situ- 
ated close to the stream at the very bottom of the valley. 
The only prospect from the house is a very limited one up 



HAWTHORNDEN. 453 

and down the river ; but a profusion of trees, shrubbery, and 
green turf, and an air of seclusion and rural beauty, render 
it a most delightful place. 

A walk of two miles farther up the river brought me to 
Lasswade, a little village situated on both sides of the Esk, 
in the gorge of a narrow glen. My arrival seemed to create 
an unusual sensation among the old women and children, and 
brought upon me a whole squadron of village curs of no very 
pacific disposition, with which I was compelled to keep up a 
sort of running fight, till I had evacuated their territories. 
A little farther on, the banks became so precipitous, and 
rose so high, that I was obliged to leave them and regain the 
road, but not until I had been presented with some charming 
views in this romantick neighbourhood. 

Hawthornden was the next object of my search. It is ap- 
proached by a private road winding down a descent along a 
double avenue of trees, and leading to an old, curiously 
wrought gate-way in front of the house. The present build- 
ing is comparatively a modern structure ; but the remains of 
heavy walls, pieces of arches, and carvings covered with 
grey moss, scattered about the premises, give evidence, that 
in former days it was a place of strength. In fact, it was 
anciently a baronial fortification, whose walls and battlements 
have long since passed away like those who constructed 
them. But the situation is one of the chief attractions of the 
place. The rear wall of the house is built on a rock of red- 
dish free-stone, which descends perpendicularly at least one 
hundred feet into the bed of the Esk, whose faint murmur- 
ings are barely audible from above. The opposite bank 
rises less abruptly ; and both sides are covered with white 
birches and hawthorns — the latter in such profusion as to 
render the name of Hawthornden peculiarly appropriate. A 
bare-footed lassie, the usual cicerone in Scotland, led the 
way by a steep path turning a little distance down the preci- 
pice, to the subteri'anean cavern hewn out of the rock, which 
afforded a hiding-place to the Covenanters in the days of Old 
Mortality ; and whence, under the leading of Alexander 
Ramsay, and other fierce chieftains of that sturdy sect, they 



454 JOURNAL. 

issued forth, and made unexpected attacks on the outposts of 
the English troops quartered in the neighbourhood. There 
are two or three of these dens or galleries, about six feet in 
width and as many in height, winding far into the rock, and 
capable of secreting a hundred men. In a little nook in the 
face of the cliff, overshadowed by hawthorns, is shown the 
seat of Druramond, the historian and poet, where he usually 
sat when he composed his works. It is a wild and romantick 
spot. 

My next essay was to get to Roslin Castle — an exploit at- 
tended with some difficulty. It was situated on the opposite 
side of the river, the banks of which were faced with pre- 
cipitous rocks nearly two hundred feet high. There was a 
path leading to a beautiful foot-bridge part way down the 
precipice ; but of this, I could not avail myself without the 
key to the bridge. Keeping the dun red, ruinous tower of 
the castle in view, I set off across the fields, in hopes of find- 
ing a practicable descent down the precipice, and being able 
to cross the stream by jumping from rock to rock. My re- 
searches proving vain, I had recourse to a peasant lad at 
work in the fields, for direction. '< Ye want to gang till the 
Castle ? An' ye'U no have then the ka till the brigg ? No. 
Weel, then, ye maun gang down yond path, and turn a wee 
sae — (here he stood up in his potatoe-cart, suiting the action 
to the word and the word to the action) — till ye come to the 
wad ; only before ye come to the wad, ye'll keep a wee off 
sae : — An' ye'll no mind to gang across without a brigg ? 
No. Aweel, then, ye'll jist gang av/a the gate I tauld ye," 
&;c. The direction not being the most intelligible, though 
delivered with a great deal of action and emphasis, I natu- 
rally lost my way, and came back, resolved to find the hu 
which promised to open a passage through the manifold 
difficulties by which I was encompassed. But the game 
keeper was from home, and the key not to be had — so I was 
obliged to lay siege to the Castle in another quarter. By 
forcing my way through briars, tumbling into gravel -pits, 
sliding like an avalanche down the declivities, followed by a 
torrent of rolling stones, and taking sundry leaps to the great 



ADVENTURES, &,c. 455 

discomposure of my bones, I reached the bottom of the glen, 
and found, as I might have expected, the stream much broad- 
er and deeper than it had appeared above. In vain, like 
Virgil's ghosts, I coasted the river backwards and forwards 
in search of a favourable place for effecting a passage ; — 

Tendebamque manus ripsB ulterioris amore : — 

In vain I cast my eyes towards the beautiful " brigg," as in- 
accessible to me as the bridge of the Mahometan paradise 
to the apostate Moslem. Making a virtue of necessity, and 
prepared, like young Lochinvar, to " swim the Esk river 
where ford there was none," rather than lose the fruit of my 
past labours, I walked on, till a round smooth stone, barely 
within leaping distance, unluckily offered a temptation to 
which I yielded. I cannot say that my success was what I 
wished ; but it was what I might have expected, prepared as 
my boots were by the slime of the river for such an exploit. 
I pass over in silence the lofty lavoltas, the graceful pirouettes, 
and the amusing, but somewhat antick attitudes, which pre- 
ceded my quietly settling down in the cooling waters of the 
Esk, comforting myself that matters were no worse. At this 
moment, I would not have given a farthing for all the "briggs" 
in Mid-Lothian — not that I was armed with the curse of 
Southey's Rajah — 

" And waters shall hear me, 
And know thee, and fly thee 

but for the better reason, that a wet man need not dread the 
water. 

Clambering up the bank through the bushes, 1 came to a 
gravelled walk, which led up the glen towards the castle. 
This I followed, till I came in front of a high park wall, on 
which was inscribed the very comforting intelligence of 
"No passage here — man-traps and spring-guns set in these 
premises." After a variety of doublings and turnings, and 
by many a weary step, I at length reached the height of the 
bank, and found my way to the Castle Inn, in a little hamlet 
close to the ruins. 

I had just seated myself in the parlour, when a barouch 



456 ^ JOURNAL. 

filled with ladies and gentlemen from the metropolis^ drove 
up, and the whole party soon proceeded towards the ruins. 
The first object of our attention was the Cliapel, situated on 
a beautiful esplanade near the brow of the bank, and over- 
looking the v/ild sylvan scenery on the river. This little edi- 
fice, constructed in the fifteenth century by St. Clair, Earl of 
Caithness and Orkney, exhibits as many of the "liberal con- 
ceits" and odd freaks of the over- witty artists of that period, 
as could well be brought together in so small a compass. 
The style scarcely falls under the designation of Gothic ; 
but combines, according to the judgment of an eminent archi- 
tect, the Egyptian, Grecian, Roman, and Saracenic styles, 
and exhibits the arch in all its possible forms and principles. 
It is only sixty-eight feet in length, by thirty-five in breadth ; 
and has a multitude of buttresses, flying abutments, and pin- 
nacles, almost all different from each other. The founder is 
said to have "caused artificers to be brought from other regions 
and forraign kingdomes, and caused dayly to be abundance 
of all kinds of workemen present ;" and each one seems to 
have come with some conceit of his own to add to the gene- 
ral stock, " to the end the worke might be more rare." Each 
window has something to distinguish it from the rest, though 
all are designed and v/rought with the most exquisite skill. 
In some, the transom of the arch is decorated with half figures 
of persons in the attitude of supplication, wrought into the 
tracery, and with foliage carved in an endless variety of 
forms. The clere-story, the windows in which are in a very 
mutilated state, is supported by a double row of columns, 
dividing the chapel into a nave and side aisles. These pil- 
lars are also designed in a great variety of styles, and en- 
riched with every possible diversity of ornament. One of 
them is wreathed in a very masterly manner, and goes by 
the popular name of the apprentice's pillar, from a tradition 
respecting its history. It is said that the master mason, de- 
spairing of being able to understarid the model furnished to 
him, went abroad for instructions ; and during his absence, 
an ingenious apprentice accomplished the work. Two 
sculptured heads in the chapel are supposed to refer to this 



ROSLIN CHAPEL. 457 

circumstance, and the catastrophe to which it led. That of 
the master is represented as frowning with rage ; while the 
forehead of the apprentice is indented with a deep scar, and 
the features relaxed by death, to denote that he had fallen a 
victim to the envy his superior genius had provoked. It 
seems to have been the humour of the artists to engrave, in 
bas-relief, a representation of all the remarkable events 
in Scripture ; and accordingly, column, capital, and cornice 
— bracket, niche, and frieze, are literally covered with pa- 
triarchs, angels, prophets, evangelists, saints and heroes, per- 
forming the various actions attributed to them in sacred 
story. What endless strokes of the chisel have been be- 
stowed, in carving and fretting the interior of this sacred 
fane ! While our guide was painfully tracing the intermin- 
able series in chronological order from Adam downwards, I 
stole away into another part of the holy edifice, where I 
could " think my ain thoughts," without interruption from his 
monotonous recitations ; and at length retreated towards the 
ruins of the castle, before he had come down to the prophet 
Malachi. 

The floor of the chapel is a pavement, now partly broken 
up ; and beneath is the vault of the Sinclairs, or St. Clairs, the 
former Earls of Caithness. I know not whether the edifice 
is still illuminated by unearthly tomb-fires, previously to the 
death of any of the family; but am always disposed, on such 
occasions, to let the traditions of olden time pass unques- 
tioned. — 

" Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud, 
Where Roslin's chiefs uncofRn'd lie; 
Each Baron, for a sable shroud, 
Sheath'd in his iron panoply. 
Seem'd all on fire within, around. 
Deep sacristy, and altars pale; 
Shone every pillar, foliage -bound; 
And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail. 
Blaz'd battlement and pinnet high ; 
Blaz'd every rose-carv'd buttress fair — 
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh 
The lordly line of high St. Clair." 
39 



458 JOURNAL. 

The ruins of the Castle are situated on a bold and lofty 
rock, overhanging the Esk, which dashes over a rugged 
channel at the base, in a semicircular sweep, forming a pro- 
montory inaccessible on all sides except that towards the cha- 
pel. The natural strength of the position is still farther im- 
proved by a deep ravine across the base of the promontory, 
by which, the high knob of rocks which forms the site of the 
castle is completely insulated. This is crossed by a high nar- 
row bridge ; and the spectator passes under the fragment of 
an arch into the midst of the ruins. These consist of pieces 
of wall of great thickness, but now, with few exceptions, al- 
most levelled with the ground. The castle is supposed to have 
been erected early in the twelfth century, and was long the 
residence of the St. Clairs, whose affluence and power ex- 
ceeded that of most contemporary nobles either in England 
or Scotland. 

After pausing for a while among these memorials of fallen 
greatness, I retraced my steps up the ridge leading towards 
the chapel, and threw myself down on a grassy bank, com- 
manding a most delicious view of the wild sylvan scene around 
and beneath me. High, precipitous rocks, thickly fringed 
with " the gay green birk," the hawthorn, and a variety of 
creeping shrubs, rose from the bed of the stream, whose faint 
murmurs ascended from the depths of the glen, and were the 
only sounds which fell on the ear in this romantick solitude, 
save the twittering of the lark and the whistle of the black- 
bird. The ruins were gilded by the rays of a bright sun, 
which only rendered their desolation more impressive. In 
the hoary, crumbling pile, I saw the fate which awaits all the 
towering monuments of human pride, and a striking comment 
on the simple words of the apostle, whose truth is most im- 
pressively felt in scenes like these — " the fashion of this world 
passeth away." 

Roslin Castle is seven or eightmiles from Edinburgh. Af- 
ter seeing all that was worth seeing in the vicinity, I set out 
on my return on foot, and got back in time to keep an appoint- 
ment to dine with Dr. H . In coming from London 

hither, I seem to have advanced at least six weeks in the sea- 



DLXNER PARTY. ^^^ 

son. It is now the eleventh of September ; and the weather 
is much like that of New England in the latter part of Octo- 
ber. Cold and chilling blasts are occasionally interrupted 
by hot suns ; on some of the trees, " the autumn's leaf is sear 
and dead," and the general fading of the foliage betrays the 
rapid approach of the inclement season. The temperature 
of this part of Scotland is extremely variable ; and before I 
had reached my lodgings, I had reason to wish that I had 
been more fortunate in my adventure at Hawthornden. 

Dr. H. is a young physician of great eminence in Edin- 
Lurgh, and is highly esteemed tor his active, benevolent, and 
religious character. At his table, I met a small but very in- 
telligent and agreeable partj' of ladies and gentlemen. I did 
not remark here " a custom, more honoured in the breach 
than the observance," — that of taking a glass of undikited 
spirits after dinner. At some of the places where I have din- 
ed, the guests are presented with raw brandy, gin. Highland 
whiskey, &c., of which each guest helps himself to a glass, 
the ladies not being exempted from taking their share. The 
whiskey is generally preferred b}- the Scotch ; but to my taste, 
it was little more palatable than cider brandy, New England 
rum, or any other species of " blue ruin." The Scotch col- 
lops is a favourite dish here. It is composed of meat finely 
hashed, and stewed till the juce is all extracted. It did not 
appear to me to merit very high praise. 

As it is now in the midst of vacation in the courts, in the uni- 
versity, and iu the high school ; the hterati of Edinburgh are 
generally out of town. Jeffrey is taking his pastime in the 
country ; Sir Walter is entertaining Mrs. Coutts — so sav the 
public prints — at AbbotsforH ; and the Professors are gather- 
ing stones in the Highlands, or eating classical suppers in 
London. As to the rest of the lions, I believe I have seen 
them all ; and shall take the road in a day or two, like other 
travellers, to Loch Katrine and the Highlands. 



460 



JOURNAL. 



CHAPTER XLIX. 



DEPARTURE FROM EDINBURGH PASSAGE UP THE FORTH DALMENY 

HOUSE HOPETOWN HOUSE CAMBUSKENNETH ABBEY STIRLING CAS- 
TLE WALK TO noUNE DOUNE CASTLE WALK TO CALLENDER 

RIVER TEITH BRACKLINN PASS OF LENY LOCH LUBNAIG LOCH 

VENNACHAR COILANTOGLe's FORD LOCH AUCHRAY BRIDGE OF 

TURK ARRIVAL AT STEWARt's DRUNKEN LIEUTENANT. 

Having sent forward my baggage to Glasgow by the canal, 
I left Edinburgh on the morning of the 13th of September, in- 
tending to proceed up the river to Stirling. The coach, after 
collecting a few passengers, took us to New Haven, a popu- 
lous little village to the northward of Edinburgh, whence the 
steamboats of the Forth take their departure. A handsome 
chain pier has been thrown out to a considerable distance for 
the convenience of passage-boats ; alongside of which was 
lying " The Lady of the Lake," in which we were to take 
our passage up the river. The elegance of her accommoda- 
tions by no means corresponded with her classical name ; as in 
point of neatness, she was on a par with an oyster boat, or the 
greasy shallop of a Chesapeake skipper. If our motion 
against wind and current was not distinguished by extraordi- 
nary celerity, it at least afforded us an opportunity of exam- 
ining at leisure the banks of this beautiful river, although the 
distant prospect was obscured by a haze in the atmosphere. 
A few hamlets, of very unpretending appearance, are scatter- 
ed along on either bank ; but the ruins of a monastery on the 
little island of Inchcolm, and Aberdour Castle on a rising 
ground nearly opposite, will not fail to attract the observation 
of the traveller. About eight miles from the metropohs, and 
on the south side of the river, is Dalmeny House, the seat of 
the Earl of Roseberry. It is a recently erected mansion, in 
the Gothic style of architecture, and is situated in the midst of 
very picturesque and beautiful grounds. A little further on, 
the princely mansion of the Earl of Hopetown appears, in the 



PASSAGE UP THE FORTH. 461 

midst of green lawns, and clumps of trees. It stands about 
half a mile from the river, from which it is seen to great ad- 
vantage. Hopetown House is a Grecian building of great 
extent ; and the grounds around it appear to be Jaid out with 
much care, and attention to effect. The clumps of trees are 
so disposed as to allow of frequent glimpses of the mansion 
from the river ; at the same time that it seems to be almost 
enveloped in a forest. About nine miles from Edinburgh, at 
a place where the river is compressed between rocky shores 
to a width of less than two miles, is Queen's Ferry, with a few 
straggling houses at each landing. The river expands again 
above ; and the towns of Culross, Kincardine, and Alloa, are 
successively seen on the north side. Opposite the latter place, 
the river becomes quite narrow, and changes its generally 
rectilinear course, for one extremely winding, the banks be- 
ing very low and marshy. The valley through which it 
flows is here not more than one or two miles wide, and bound- 
ed on both sides by high abrupt hills. Before entering these 
defiles, we passed the mouth of the Carron, flowing through 
a vale from the south-west. On this stream are situated the 
famous Carron iron-Avorks, the smoke from which was seen 
hanging like a murky cloud over the vale. We had now got 
in sight of the hill and castle of Stirling ; but so crooked was 
the channel, that they sometimes appeared quite over our 
stern. The ruins of the Abbey of Cambuskenneth form a 
very striking object in the approach to Stirling, from which 
they are only a mile or two distant. Heavy masses of walls 
and towers, with arches and battlements, some in tolerable 
preservation, still mark the site of this once famous Abbey. 
It was once of great extent, and occupies a tongue of land 
almost insulated by the windings of the Forth. Tradition re- 
ports, that it formerly communicated with Stirling Castle by 
a subterranean gallery : but as the distance is more than a 
mile, and is crossed by the bed of the river, nothing but the 
actual discovery of the communication will probably satisfy 
a skeptic, that the art of tunnelling was so well understood in 
those times. We arrived at Stirling late in the afternoon and 
39* 



462 JOURNAL. 

disembarked as motley a company as ever took passage to« 
gether in The Lady of the Lake. 

During our sail up the river, I had formed an acquaintance 
with a young barrister of the metropolis, and accidentally 
learned that he w^as bound on the same route, and was travel- 
ling like myself without a companion. As he was an intel- 
ligent young man, of pleasing manners, I had no hesitation 
in proposing that we should proceed in company — a proposal 
which was as readily accepted. We accordingly swung our 
bundles on our backs, and took the road up the hill together 
to look at the town and castle. 

The situation of these is in a remarkable degree similar 
to that of the castle and Old Town of Edinburgh. A high 
ridge running from east to west forms the site of the town, 
which is also clustered around the northern side and base of 
the hill ; while the castle stands on the bold, high bluff which 
terminates the ridge to the west, and overlooks the river. 
The ascent from the landing is by a steep and winding street, 
leading into the principal one running along on the top of 
the ridge. On arriving at the ramparts of the castle, the 
weather had cleared up, and gave us a fine view of the sur- 
rounding scenery. The windings of the Forth above and 
below, are seen as on a map ; richly cultivated fields and 
gentlemen's country seats form the middle and foreground of 
the panorama ; while the Highlands are seen heaving their 
bare summits into the sky, to the north and west. No less 
than twelve battle-fields are visible from this spot in a clear 
day. That of Bannockburn, fought early in the fourteenth 
century, in which Robert Bruce gave so fatal a defeat to the 
troops of Edward IL, is plainly seen from the castle, about 
two miles distant. The scene of this deadly strife is a 
broken plain, gently sloping to the north, through which runs 
a small stream or hum, which gave name to the battle. 

Stirling was at one period not less distinguished as a royal 
residence, than for its scenes of border warfare. It was the 
favourite retreat of James L, and the birth-place of James II. 
Here, too, James V. often held his court, and indulged his 
natural love of fun and frolick, as the guidman of Ballangiech. 



STIRLING CASTLE. 468 

Events of a more tragical character have also transpired 
here. A dark entry or closet, in the north-western part of 
the castle, is shown as the place where the second James 
stabbed his kinsman, the Earl of Douglas, with his own hand. 
Here, some of the best blood of Scotland has flowed under 
the hands of the publick executioner ; and here, the unfortu- 
nate Mary lived in retirement for a time, during the minority 
of James VI. The tilting-ground is a level, enclosed plain, 
near the base of the hill ; on the margin of which is " The 
Ladies Rock," whence the female spectators were accustom- 
ed to gaze at the knightly exploits of the combatants. The 
royal park and garden, containing a high artificial mound of 
earth, lie on the south side of the fortress. 

One of the soldiers, a very civil, intelligent fellow, con- 
ducted us over the castle, and pointed out, on the north side 
of the principal entrance, a small circular tower, which still 
goes by the name of " Roderick Dhu's cell." 

" 'Twas a prison room 

Of stern security and gloom, 
Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 
Through lofty gratings found its way. 
And rude and antique garniture 
Decked the sad walls and flinty floor." 

The walls of the castle are of considerable extent, and are 
traced in irregular lines corresponding with the shape of the 
ground, and the brow of the precipice from which they rise. 
They are commanded by two or three eminences to the east- 
ward, and would be untenable against batteries of heavy ar- 
tillery. The castle was besieged by General Monk, who 
placed a park of cannon in one of the church -yards ; and the 
steeple and roof of the edifice still exhibit marks of the shot 
thrown by the garrison. Several guns are mounted on the 
ramparts, and a few troops are quartered here. The Lion's 
Den is a small, dark quadrangle, surrounded by high walls ; 
but why it goes by this appellation I did not learn. The 
Parliament house, and the royal chapel, the latter a small 
Gothic edifice, are also situated within the circumference of 
the walls, which, on the whole, contain few things worthy of 



464 JOtJKNAL. 

particular notice. Leaving the castle, we passed by the Earl 
of Marr's house, begun by him while Regent of Scotland, in 
1570, but never finished. Between the castle and the town 
is the palace of the Earl of Argyle — a very unpretending 
structure. Among the other publick buildings of Stirling, 
none struck us as worthy of particular notice. The popula- 
tion is about six thousand, and the distance from Edinburgh 
thirty-five miles. 

Having satisfied our curiosity, and taken such a hasty din- 
ner as our time would permit, we took up our bundles and 
set off for Doune, eight miles distant. We crossed the river 
by a bridge in front of the castle, and pursued our walk over 
a plain in a northerly direction. Much of the land under 
tillage appeared to have been reclaimed from the marsh by 
ditching and dykeing. Blair Drummond, the favourite retreat 
of Lord Kaims, stands on this road ; but owes its celebrity 
more to the character of its late possessor, than to any beau- 
ties of its own. At length, our road led to thewoody bank 
of the Teith, which we crossed by a noble stone bridge ; and 
turning a little down the stream, arrived at Doune about nine 
in the evening, and found quarters at a miserable inn, but 
the best v/hich the village a<fforded. 

I awoke in the morning from a feverish and disturbed re- 
pose on a most " uneasy pallet ;" and our first object was to 
visit the ruins of Doune Castle. The day had but just dawn- 
ed ; the rain was pouring down violently ; and the dirty 
streets of Doune presented but a sombre appearance, as with 
dripping umbrellas, we made our way through mud and 
water towards the hoary pile. The castle is still in a state 
of such fine preservation that it scarcely deserves the name 
of a ruin. It is a large quadrangle, the walls of which are 
at least fifty feet high. Although they have stood for about 
seven hundred years, they have suffered but little from the 
ravages of Time, 

" who 'mid the world-revolving gloom, 



Sit'st on yon solitary spire, 

Or slowly shak'st the sounding dome." 



DOUNE CASTLE.' 465 

The battlements, however, have disappeared ; and the rents 
which are disclosed in the massy walls, proclaim that the 
work of decay is going on. The pile is beautifully situated 
in the suburbs of the village, on a grassy mound, whose base 
is washed on the south-west by the roaring Teith ; and on. 
the west, by the Ardans, a little tributary stream. The view 
of their woody banks, when seen from the castle, is highly 
picturesque and pleasing. The castle is built of a reddish 
sandstone, not unlike that found on the Connecticut river ; 
and the walls are of immense thickness. It was for a time 
the residence of Queen Mary ; and here^ the prisoners taken 
by the rebels in the year 1745, were confined, among whom 
was the author of Douglas, whose military ardour had in- 
duced him to exchange his gown and cassock for the wea- 
pons of carnal warfare. 

Few objects impress the imagination more forcibly than 
one of these crumbling fortresses, situated in a lonely, un- 
frequented place. We involuntarily contrast it, in its deso- 
lation, with what it was in the day of its power ; and think 
of those times, when each baron was a monarch and a war- 
rior ; and rode forth from beneath its lofty portals at the 
head of his military retainers, armed with bows and battle- 
axes, to avenge the wrongs of the clan, or chastise the inso- 
lence of a border noble. Now, the scene is changed. Si- 
lence is in the halls, and the arched corridor only echoes to 
the tread of the visitant, or to the fall of the crumbling ma- 
sonry, as it slowly yields to that consuming power, whose 
touch dissolves the proudest works of man. These walls of 
strength are now tenanted only by the rooks, which seem to 
enjoy a prescriptive right to the possession of ruined castles ; 
a few shreds of ivy have wreathed their roots into the crevices, 
and swing to the passing blast ; the long grass waves on the 
battlements ; and beneath, the eye reposes on cottages, and 
herds of cattle, and sylvan scenes, whose peacefulness is no 
longer disturbed by murder, rapine, and the confused noise 
of the battle and the warrior. 

As we had a long walk before us, we were obliged to con- 
tent ourselves with a hasty survey ; and taking our bundles 



466 JOURNAL. 

andfer our arm, we set out, intending to walls to Callender 
before breakfast. A heavy rain had fallen during the night, 
which rendered the road almost impassably bad ; and a furi- 
ous wind compelled us to furl our umbrellas and take the 
peltings of the storm, which abated nothing of its violence 
until we reached Callender. Our road lay on the left bank 
of the Teith, swollen prodigiously by the torrents from the 
mountain glens, and keeping up a continual roar. We pass- 
ed the mansion of Cambusmore, and Lanric Castle, the lat- 
ter across the river ; but neither of them offering much to 
invite criticism. Now and then, as the clouds were scattered 
by the blast, we caught a glimpse of the naked Highlands ; 
but a violent splash of rain in our faces the next moment 
obliged us to content ourselves with more circum.scribed pros- 
pects. Having drank somewhat into the spirit of the border 
minstrelsy, we naturally recollected that we were travelling the 
road, by which Fitz James and his squires returned to Stir- 
ing, after his fight with Roderick Dhu at Coilantogle's ford. 

" Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 
And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
Torry and Lendrick now are past, 
And Deanstone lies behind them cast ; 
They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 
They sink in distant woodlands soon : — 
They bathe their coursers' swelling sides, 
Dark Forth I amid thy sluggish t'.des — 
Right hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth ! 
And soon the bulwark of the north. 
Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, 
Upon their fleet career looked down." 

As we were obliged to struggle forward on foot, and as some 
address was necessary to avoid leaving a boot behind as a 
token of our having been this way, we were compelled to 
satisfy ourselves with a more moderate degree of speed ; but 
arrived at Macgregor's Inn at Callender, about nine, cold, 
drenched, and fatigued. The distance from Doune is eight 
miles. 

After breakfast, we walked to Bracklinn, a romantick 
water-fall a mile or two from the village, and were joined by 



BRACKLINN. 46T 

a young man from the South of England, who was making 
the tour of the Highlands. Our path lay over a high, steep 
hill, on the north side of which was the cascade of which we 
were in search. It was invisible, until we came to the edge 
of the cleft, down which the torrent rushes. Following the 
steps of our guide, a little bai-e-footed girl as light and fleet 
as a mountain roe, we emerged from a tangled thicket which 
had concealed the chasm from view, and suddenly discover- 
ed that we were on a foot-bridge scarcely three feet wide, 
without hand-rails, or any thing to protect us, in the event of 
a false step or of sudden giddiness, from being precipitated 
thirty or forty feet into the infuriated torrent. We were far 
advanced on this perilous bridge, before we were aware of 
our situation ; and the sudden discovery gave a shock to our 
nerves, which was visible enough in each other's looks when 
we had reached the farther bank. Indeed, scarcely a word 
was spoken by any of the party, until we had got safely back. 
Sir Walter Scott thus describes the object of our visit : 
" This is a beautiful cascade made at a place called the 
Bridge of Bracklinn, by a mountain stream called the Keltie, 
about a mile from the village of Callender, in Menteith. 
Above a chasm, where the brook precipitates itself from a 
height of at least fifty feet, there is thrown a rustic foot- 
bridge, of about three feet in breadth, and without ledges, 
which is scarcely to be crossed by a stranger without awe 
and apprehension." This little structure, on which we had 
been carried by surprise, is formed of two small trunks of 
trees laid side by side, and covered with sticks and turf. 
The cataract, which is composed of a number of leaps from 
rock to rock, amid a variety of projecting angles from the 
perpendicular cliffs, is seen to the best advantage from the 
aforesaid bridge. It was now swollen by the heavy rains ; 
and by the noise and fury of its turbid waters, was no unfit 
emblem of the qualities of the chieftain, whose suit Ellen 
Douglas would not brook. 

" I grant him brave. 



But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave. 



468 JOURNAL. 

Below the linn, the stream sinks into a deep quiet bed, and 
soon steals away from the view behind the bushes and stunt- 
ed trees, which grow in the crevices of the overhanging 
rocks. On regaining the top of the hill, we had a splendid 
view of the windings and overflowing of the Teith through 
the valley, which opens to the eastward from Loch Venna- 
char ; of the placid lake itself, and the bold naked hills 
which rise from its southern bank ; while in the distance, the 
brown towers of Stirling Castle, with the broken back 
ground, terminated the prospect. Callender is situated on 
the boundary line of the Highlands ; and the scenery 
around it, though wanting in rugged majesty, is bold and im- 
pressive. The day was as favourable as we could have 
wished for exploring the wild passes before us. At one mo- 
ment, the sun broke out in all his splendour ; and at the next, 
a heavy body of clouds seemed to be condensed over our 
heads, and gave infallible tokens of their presence by the 
precipitation of a copious mist ; while they as suddenly dis- 
appeared again, leaving the highest mountain tops basking 
in the light of day. On our return to the inn, we found a 
party of young Scotchmen at breakfast. They were fine 
looking men, but " not intellectual," as Dr. Johnson would 
say. 

We resumed our journey towards Loch Katrine, and a mile 
and a half from Callender, came to the entrance into the Pass 
of Leny. Down this Pass runs a foaming torrent, which, 
uniting just below with a stream issuing from Loch Venna- 
char, forms the river Teith so often mentioned. " This 
Pass," says a writer, " in a continued series of the falls of 
the river, from Loch Lubnaig to Kilmahog, through a de- 
clivity of probably not less than two hundred feet, with the 
addition of a beautiful skirting of wood, furnishes a feast to 
the eye, as well as to the ear, which can be pleased with 
the cataract's roar, not often to be met with even in the 
Highlands." We here turned out of our road to follow the 
bank of this romantic stream. A space, in some places 
barely sufficient for the road, lies between the torrent on the 
left, and the lofly precipices which rise perpendicularly on 



LOCH LUBNAIG. 469 

the right, at the base of a high mountain. The Pass con- 
tinues for a mile and a half, the cliffs encroaching more and 
more on the river, until a sudden turn to the right opens 
into a wider part of the glen. Here, the stream became 
placid ; the banks were less precipitous ; and a walk of an- 
other half mile brought us within view of the waters of Loch 
Lubnaig, deeply embosomed among mountains. Before ar- 
riving at the margin of the lake, we passed the ruins of the 
Chapel of S. Bride, celebrated in the progress of Roderick's 
Fiery Cross. 

" Nor rest, nor pause, young Angus knew, — 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll. 

Betwixt him and a wooden knoll, 

That graced the sable strath with green. 

The Chapel of S. Bride was seen." 

The lake is a quiet little sheet of water, from which the Teith 
*takes its origin ; and is surrounded by high, swelling, naked 
mountains. On its northern side, Benledi rises to the height 
of three thousand feet. The beauty of the scenery at the 
outlet of the lake is greatly enhanced by a little grove of 
trees, and some thickets of copse-wood which are scattered 
along the margin. At the opposite extremity, and in a hol- 
low scooped out from the mountains's breast, is a small white 
house, in which Bruce, the discoverer of the source of the 
Nile, was born, and passed the years of his childhood. 
While my companions amused themselves with skipping 
stones on the lake, I attempted a sketch of the scenery ; and 
we soon after returned down the Pass to the point of our de- 
parture. Here are two or three miserable huts known by 
the euphonous name of Kilmahog. We entered the most 
respectable looking one, which professed to be a house of 
entertainment ; but could get nothing but bannocks and 
whiskey. The smell of the latter was sufficient ; and after 
scraping our throats with a mouthful of oatmeal bannocks, 
we resumed our walk. 

Our road now lay on the south side of the valley, through 
which the waters of Loch Katrine flow in their way to the 
Forth. Keeping along the base of Benledi, and the loftv 
40 



470 



JOURNAL. 



range of" mountains which lay on our right, we came at 
lenffth. 



" where stem and steep, 

The hill sinks down upon the deep ; 
Here, Vennachar in silver flows ; 
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose." 

This little lake is formed by the expanding of the waters, 
which are discharged from Loch Katrine. It is four or five 
miles in length by a mile and a half in breadth ; and is of a 
regular oval form, without any of the green headlands and 
shady nooks which look so beautiful in poetry. It is en- 
compassed on the north and south by high heathy hills, 
so naked of every species of vegetation, except the heather, 
that I could compare the prospect to nothing but — Muse of 
Sir Walter, forgive me — a huge, brown, wooden bowl partly 
filled with water. To an eye accustomed to the delightful 
sylvan scenery on the banks of our New-England lakes, 
there is something quite irreconcilable with our ideas of 
beauty, in this general aspect of barrenness. It is true, that 
here and there a tuft of stunted birch shrubs, or a dwarf 
willow, grows on the margin : but they are -at best a poor 
compensation for the nakedness of the surrounding land- 
scape. Pursuing our walk a little farther, 

" We reached that torrent's sounding shore. 
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 
From Vennachar in silver breaks, 
Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines, 
On Bochastle the mouldering lines. 
Where Piome the empress of the world, 
Of yore her eagle-wings unfurled." 

This " sounding torrent" is one of the principal tributaries 
of the Teith ; and the place where it issues from the lake is 
called " Coilantogle's ford." The reader need not be re-, 
rninded, that this was the scene of the imaginary combat 
between Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu. If he feel little 
interest in these localities of the Lady of the Lake, he can 
avail himself of his privilege of skipping as much as he thinks 
proper, during our short sojourn among these mountain glens ; 



LOCH AUCHRAY. 



471 



and a scrap or two of poetry will generally indicate the por- 
tions to be avoided. 

We resumed our walk along the northern side of the glen, 
sometimes following the windings of the shore, sometimes 
clambering over rocky eminences, and crossing foaming tor- 
rents, which looked like stripes of silver on the mountain's 
breast. The heather with which the hills are covered grows 
to the height of from two to four feet ; and throws out such a 
multitude of intricate branches, as greatly to impede the pro- 
gress of the pedestrian. Its purple blossoms, by the touch 
of the frosts, have been changed to a dun brick colour, which 
imparts a singularly dreary aspect to the scenery. We pass- 
ed a few solitary huts, and here and there a patch of starved 
oats or barley, which in more fertile countries would be 
thought scarcely worth reaping. 

About a mile above Loch Vennachar, on approaching the 
Bridge of Turk, Loch Auchray, pronounced Auhree by the 
Scotch, with a strong accent on the last syllable ; and the 
windings of the stream that issues from it, open to the view. 
This is really a beautiful little lake, about two miles long, 
indented with bays and promontories, and exhibiting, on jits 
northern bank, some 

" copse-wood gray. 



That waved and wept on Loch Auchray." 

The opposite bank is bare and heathy. 

Proceeding onward, we next came to the " Brigg of 
Turk," a high, solid bridge of rough masonry, cast by a 
single arch over a deep, black, boiling flood, which issues 
from one of the glens in the mountain. The principal of 
these is Glenfinglass, which opens a considerable distance 
into the hills, and contains a few cottages, as miserable as 
the rest we had seen. We here met with an angler return- 
ing from his sport on the lake, with a string of beautiful trout. 
He readily parted v/ith one weighing about two pounds, for 
six-pencc, which we took along for our supper. We arrived 
in the dusk of the evening at a farm-house, with a most un- 
pronounceable name, situated at the entrance of the Tros. 



472 JOURNAL. 

sachs, and kept by a Highlander of the name of Stewart. 
A high fever, together with the fatigues of a walk of thirty 
miles, partly in the rain, had reduced me to such a state of 
weakness that I was scarcely able to stand. To add to my 
miseries, a roaring bully of a lieutenant of his majesty's 
navy had come on a land cruise among the Highlands, and 
to get gloriously drunk at the Trossachs. The narrow ac- 
commodations of the house allowed us no escape from his 
impertinences ; and as our sitting room had been assigned as 
a dormitory for half a dozen of us, I was compelled to listen 
with a throbbing head till midnight to the slang of the cock- 
pit, and the incoherent ravings inspired by deep potations of 
whiskey. He insisted on navigating us all up the lake in the 
morning ; and became so outrageous at length that he was 
given in charge to two or three stout Highlanders, who ex- 
ecuted their task so faithfully, that we were deprived of 
the benefit of his nautical skill on the following day. About 
sixty tourists had lodged at the house the night before, and 
the guests were not much less numerous on the night of our 
arrival. Our host was altogether an original. As he claims 
to be descended from some collateral branch of Highland 
nobility, he has to support the somewhat incompatible char- 
acters of publican and petty chieftain, the latter of which he 
is evidently most anxious to maintain. His squab figure is 
arrayed in the full costume of what was once his clan ; and 
a feather or two stuck in his bonnet denotes his alliance in 
the fiftieth degree with some Highland Mac, who once 
reigned over a portion of these naked mountains. 



-473 



THE TROSSACHS. 



CHAPTER L. 



"THE TROSSACHS-^LOCH KATRINE ELLEn's ISLAND VIEWS ON THE LAKE 

CHANGEFUL APPEARANCE OF MOUNTAIN MISTS BATTLE OF BEAl' AN 

DUINE goblin's CAVE SCENERY ON THE BANKS OF THE LAKE HUT 

OF A HIGHLANDER LOCH ARKILL INVERSNAID FALLS — LOCH LO- 
MOND. 

Sept. l5th. — We took an early breakfast, and set off for 
Loch Katrine, with a couple of boatmen to row us up the 
lake. A walk of a mile brought us to the entrance of the 
Trossachs, one of those wild and rugged scenes of nature, 
^hich cannot fail to excite the dullest imagination. It is a 
narrow gorge in the mountains, at the east end of Loch 
Katrine, through which its superfluous waters are dis- 
charged into the small lakes already described. To form a 
just idea of the scene, one may imagine the steep and high 
mountains on either hand to have been rent in pieces by 
some strong convulsion, and large portions of them to have 
been hurled down into the glen, each one occupying the 
place, and retaining the position, in which it fell. These 
mighty fragments of rocks, and woods and hills, are strewed 
along a passage of a mile or two at the east end, and on 
the sides of Loch Katrine ; but assume the most rugged and 
imposing forms just at the outlet, where the mountains ap- 
proach so near as to leave only a very narrow, dark passage, 
like that by which ^neas descended to the dreary land of 
shadows — vastoque immanis hiatu. Above, appear many 
a beetling rock and cliff, which threaten, on the sHghtest 
concussion, to quit their precarious seat, and scatter their ruins 
among those which are already piled up in every fantastick 
form at the bottom of the glen. In the crevices of the rocks, 
and on the sides and summits of the precipices, the aged 
weeping birches have fixed their roots, and hang down their 
40* 



474 JOURNAL. 

waving ringlets as if to conceal the horrors of the delL 
Daylight is almost excluded from this valley of the shadow of 
death. In the steepest and narrowest part of it, we could 
see only a narrow strip of the horizon, across which the light 
clouds were flitting before a strong breeze. The deep si- 
lence of the place was interrupted only by the falling of the 
drops which had gathered during the night on the foliage, 
and the faint murmurs of the stream struggling through its 
rocky channel on our left. A scene like this was worthy 
of the poet's pencil ; and by way of atonement for my own 
meager description, I must take the liberty of introducing 
his vivid sketch, which in this instance has the merit of being 
true to nature. The morning sun was shedding forth its 
brightest rays, illuminating every point of the scenery to 
which its beams could have access : — 

" Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 

Was bathed in floods of living fire. 

But not a rising beam could glow 

Within the dark ravines below, 

Where twined the path, in shadow hid. 

Round many a rocky pyramid, 

Shooting abruptly from the dell 

Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; 

Round many an insulated mass. 

The native bulwarks of the pass. 

Huge as the towers which builders vain 

Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 

Their rocky summits, split and rent, 

Formed turret, dome, or battlement. 

Or seemed fantastically set 

With cupola or minaret, 

Wild crests as pagod ever decked. 

Or mosque of eastern architect. 

Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 

Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 

For, from their shivered brows displayed, 

Far o'er the unfathomable glade. 

All twinkling with the dew-drop sheen, ; 

The brier-rose fell in streamers green. 

And creeping shrubs of thousand dies, 

Waved in the west-wind's summer's sighs," 



ELLEN'S ISLAND. 475 

Pursuing our winding foot-path, we came to a sudden turn 
round a point of rocks, where Loch Katrine, or rather one 
of the bays in which the lake is terminated'at this end, was 
presented to our view. To this dark sheet of water, from 
whose glassy surface the gigantic mountains and overhanging 
cliffs were reflected with a surprising clearness of outline, 
there seemed to be no outlet, the view being obstructed by an 
island lying about a third of a mile from the point where we 
stood, and the promontories which stretched out from either 
shore. Here were presented new scenes of sublimity, not 
less striking than those we had left behind. 

" High on the south, huge Ben-venue 

Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, 

The fragments of an earlier world ; 

A wildering forest feathered o'er 

His ruined sides and summit hoar ; 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare." 

Our boat lay moored in an inlet among the rocks, and we 
embarked to explore the shores and localities of this pictur- 
esque lake. 

With a few strokes of the oar we doubled a little headland, 
and came abreast of " Ellen's Island," which lay about a 
quarter of a mile distant. It is a little mound of rocks and 
earth rising abruptly out of the bosom of the lake, and cover- 
ed with shrubs and young trees. We landed, we were at 
liberty to suppose, at the identical place where Ellen's shal- 
lop guided the knight of Snowdoun — indeed it is almost 
the only point on the rocky shore where it is possible to 
disembark — and clambered up the bank by a narrow foot- 
path, 

" That winded through the tangled screen, 
And opened on a narrow green. 
Where weeping birch and willow round 
With their long fibres sweptthe ground. 
Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower." 



-476 Journal. 

Since the publication of the Lady of the Lake, the proprietor 
of the Island, a Scotch nobleman, has erected a hunting lodge 
here, and decorated it in a style answering to the description 
given in the poem. — 

■" For all around, the walls to grace, 
Hung trophies of the fight or chace ; 
A target there, a bugle here, 
A battle-ax, a hunting spear, 
And broad-swords, bows, and arrows store, 
With the tusked trophies ot the boar. 
Here grins the wolf as when he died. 
And there, the wild-cat's brindled hide 
The frontlet of the elk adorns. 
Or mantles o'er the bison's horns : 
Pennons and flags defaced and stained 
That blackening streaks of blood retained, 
And deer-skins dappled, dun, and white. 
With otter's fur and seals unite, 
In rude and uncouth tapestry all 
To garnish forth the sylvan hall." 

The island covers about an acre, and is very thickly wooded. 
It lies about a stone's throw from a little bay scooped out of 
the northern bank, where, black frowning rocks, dipping per- 
pendicularly into the waters, meet the eye, instead of " the 
silver strand" kissed by the eddying waves. One of our 
boatmen who could speak a little English, pointed out a rocky 
ravine up the side of the mountain, where, as he said, Fitz 
James lost his horse ; and a yard or two of pebbly beach in 
the aforesaid cove was doubtless the point of his embarkation 
to visit the island. 

"We returned to our boat by the same path we had ascend- 
ed, constructed of rude steps formed of rocks, roots of trees- 
and pieces of timber. A favouring breeze having sprung up, 
our boatmen set their little sail, which soon swept us round 
the southern point of the island, and gave the whole range oi 
the lake to view. 

" One burnished sheet of living gold, 
Loch-Katrine lay beneath us rolled ; 
In all her length far-winding lay, 



LOCH KATRINE. 477 

With promontory, creek, and bay. 
And islands that, empurpled bright, 
Floated amid the silver light ; 
And mountains, that like giants stand, 
To sentinel enchanted land." 

No day could have been more favourable for viewing the 
scenery to advantage. The bright shining of the sun was oc- 
casionally obscured by clouds driven swiftly along, and cast- 
ing a flitting shade on the lake and rugged precipices. At 
one moment, a thick covering of mist clothed the summit, and 
rolled down the sides of Ben- Venue ; but while we sat won- 
dering at the suddenness of the phenomenon, an opening 
would appear in the heaving mass, allowing the eye to range 
far up into the desolate solitude of the mountain, where the 
beetling rocks and fragments assumed a variety of fantastick 
forms, as they were exhibited through the distorting medium 
of the vapour. Since entering the Highlands, we have been 
particularly struck with the almost instantaneous rapidity, 
with which the mist is gathered and dispersed on the sides of 
the mountains- Their summits are so perpetually covered, 
that they are only now and then visible for a moment. Oft- 
en, as I sat gazing on the giant form of Ben-Venue, the mist 
which rested on its top seemed to dissolve and roll down quite 
to its base like the loosened folds of a garment, leaving the 
summit exposed ; and as suddenly to be gathered up again, 
shrouding the upper regions in darkness. It is difficult per- 
haps to account for these sudden changes, the effect of which, 
in such wild scenery, will be easily supposed to be highly pic- 
turesque. 

In the Trossachs which we had just left, a bloody skirmish 
once happened between a party of Cromwell's troops and the 
men of the country, which goes by the name of the Battle of 
Beal' an Duine. The invaders were at first successful, and 
compelled the Highlanders to withdraw into the neighbouring 
glens and hiding places, with which they were well acquaint- 
ed. Emboldened by their success, they resolved to plunder 
the little island where the Highlanders had secreted their 
families ; and one of the parly swam towards their retreat to 



^'^^ 'JOURNAL. 

fetch the boat, which lay moored in one of the creeks. Just 
as he reached the nearest point, and was laying hold of a 
rock, Helen Stuart, a heroine of the clan, met him sword in 
hand ; and before he could make good his landing, struck his 
head from his body at a single blow. The adventure termi- 
nating so unfortunately for the party, and the Highlanders 
continuing to annoy them, they lost no time in retreating from 
their perilous situation. The Celtic name of a particular 
pass in the Trossachs, is derived from the grave of one of 
Cromwell's party, which is still pointed out by the guides. 

As we sailed along the lake to the westward, we had a full 
view of Coir nan Uriskin or the Goblin's Cave, situated near 
the base of Ven- Venue, and celebrated in Highland supersti- 
tion as the abode of supernatural beings. It is a gloomy re- 
cess in a deep chasm of the mountain, the entrance to which 
is marked out by a huge pile of fragments of rocks. The 
shores of the lake along the eastern extremity are indented 
by bold headlands, often terminating in high cliffs of black 
rocks dropping perpendicularly into the deep still water, and 
little bays displaying a narrow margin of white sand, bleach- 
ed for ages by the waves. Sometimes, the view of the lake 
is almost lost among capes and islands ; and again, it opens 
on the sight through the long vista of hills which skirt it on 
either side. The recent heavy rains had swollen the moun- 
tain torrents, which flowed down in a hundred streams, break- 
ing the solitude by their continual roar, and scattering their 
foam on the lake. In a word, new scenes opened upon us 
perpetually as we advanced on our way ; behind every cliff 
and cape, some new and wild form of nature appeared, while 
others were as continually retiring out of sight ; and far to the 
west, the towering and serrated heights of Arrochar bounded 
the prospect. By the time we had rowed half the length of 
the lake, however, we had left all these picturesque scenes 
behind. The hills retired farther from the shore, and pre- 
sented less rude grandeur of outline ; all signs of vegetation 
disappeared, except the interminable beds of brown heather ; 
and a few scattered, miserable huts, afforded the only indica- 
jtions that the region was frequented by man. A change in the 



Walk to loch Lomond. 479^' 

wind obliged our boatmen to haul down their little sail, and 
take to their oars ; and the rest of our voyage was performed 
against a strong breeze, which dashed the water into our 
boat in quantities which proved ra.ther uncomfortable. One 
of the boatmen could speak nothing but Gaelic, which, when 
spoken by a Highlander in conversation, is neither harsh nor 
unmusical. The waters of the lake are remarkably transpa- 
rent ; and when the surface is calm, the white pebbles may 
be discerned at a great depth. The lake is about twelve 
miles in length, by a breadth varying from one to two miles. 
Quite at the west end, the mountains rise again with a bolder 
swell, but want the picturesque and rugged forms of Ben- 
An and Ben-Venue. Glengyle, or the Stranger's Glen, is a 
deep recess in the mountains on the north, and just at the ex- 
tremity of the lake. We disembarked, about eleven, at alit-- 
tie rude pier ; and commenced our walk over the naked hills 
to Loch Lomond, about five or six miles distant. On gain- 
ing the first eminence, we paused to enjoy another view of the 
scenery we had just left. The wind had subsided ; the glassy 
surface reflected the giant forms of the mountains, whose 
heads were lost as usual among clouds ; the view being termi- 
nated by the narrow gorge of the Trossachs. One of the 
huts of the Highlanders standing close to our foot-path, curi- 
osity induced us to enter it. It was built partly of stones and 
partly of logs, the crevices being filled with clay and moss. 
It contained but a single apartment, and was without floor or 
chimney, a hole being left in the roof for the smoke to escape. 
As this was in no haste to make its exit, and glass windows 
being unknown in this region, the room was so dark that we 
could not at first discern the inmates, consisting of a High- 
lander lazily stretched out on a bench ; his blear-eyed wife ; 
two or three half naked children, and as many pigs — all dirty 
beyond description. The earthen floor was strewed with the 
refuse offish, and the smells which saluted our nostrils from 
this receptacle of filth, were far from being savoury. We 
made what seemed to be a satisfactory atonement for our in- 
trusion by giving a sixpence or two to the ragged urchins, 
and pursued our walk. About a mile from Loch Katrine we 



480 JOURNAL. 

passed Loch Arkiil, a little pond on our left, which sends out 
a roaring torrent towards Loch Lomond. Following this 
stream, we came to the Fort of Inversnaid, a little, ruinous 
fortress situated near the bank of the lake. The bank is here 
very steep, and the descent is by a narrow, winding path, 
overhung with trees and creeping shrubs. After a variety of 
turnings, we reached the pebbly margin of Loch Lomond, 
and had a noble view of the Arrochar mountains on the op- 
posite side. My attention had been attracted by the loud 
roaring of a water-fall, and I followed the shore in the direc- 
tion from which the sound proceeded. A sudden turn round 
a point brought me in front of a beautiful cascade, formed by 
the torrent already mentioned. It burst out from a thicket at 
the top of the bank, and after being dashed from rock to rock 
in a descent of about thirty feet, was received into a bason, 
whence its waters rippled away over a stony bottom to lose 
themselves in the lake. My companion stretched himself out 
on the bank, to dream of briefs or build castles in the air, 
while I attempted a sketch of the falls of Inversnaid. In pic- 
turesque beauty they surpass the falls of Bracklinn which we 
had visited the day before, and present a most pleasing object 
to a passenger sailing along the lake. 



CHAPTER LI. 



LOCU LOMOND STEAM-BOAT PARTY AMUSING SCENE AT ROB ROy's 

CAVE SCENERY OF THE LAKE BALOCH LEVEN WATER DUMBARTON 

CASTLE RIVER CLYDE INTEMPERANCE ARRIVAL AT GLASGOW 

THE UNIVERSITY HUNTEr's MUSEUM CATHEDRAL KIRK DESCRIP- 
TION OF THE CITY SUBURBS BRIDGES NELSON's MONUMENT. 

The appearance of the steam-boat, for which we had been 
waiting, paddling up the lake, interrupted our amusements ; 
and on our hoisting a strip of a flag which lay on the beach, 
a boat put out to take us on board. There was a crowd of 
swains and lassies on the deck — a party who were seeking to 



ROB ROY'S CAVE. 481 

diversify the pleasures of the fair at Balloch by an excursion 
to Rob Roy's Cave and as merry as a band of musicians 
could make them. The shirling of bagpipes, fiddles, and 
French horns " pit mettle in their heels;" and reels, jigs, and 
country dances were executed in a most vigorous style. The 
rain sometimes drove the other passengers belovi^, but caused 
no interruption to the dance, which went on laboriously, the 
performers smoking under the exercise, and splashing about 
the puddles of water on the deck. 

After sailing a few miles up the lake, the boat hauled along 
side of a ledge of rocks, and the company disembarked, and 
commenced scrambling up the rocky base of one of the sum- 
mits of A.rrochar. The cave, which is said to have been one 
of the numerous retreats of the outlaw, is situated ten or fif- 
teen rods above the lake. As fast as the party reached the 
entrance — and the contest seemed to be who should get there 
soonest — they plunged in, and the scene which followed was 
amusing enough. It was necessary to bend almost double to 
enter this burrow of the Macgregor ; and as it descended 
very abruptly a distance of eight or ten feet, and the 
party were in too high spirits to heed trifling obstacles, the 
first rush brought some half a dozen, of both sexes, to the 
bottom, in all possible positions except the perpendicular. It 
is true, the soft viscous mud, which plentifully strewed the 
floor of this first landing, was exceedingly well adapted to ob- 
viate the ill consequences of such a disorderly entrance ; but 
could not alleviate the momentary apprehensions experienced 
during the descent, from the disagreeable uncertainty where 
it was to terminate. A sudden turn in the passage presented 
another descent of a few feet into an irregular cavern, capa- 
ble of holding eight or ten persons. This was filled immedi- 
ately, but the stream continued flowing down, until the pres- 
sure became suffocating ; and those of us who had attained 
the honourable distinction of roUing first to the bottom, were 
most inconveniently wedged away in the nooks and crevices 
of the cavern. A ludicrous scene of confusion and uproar 
ensued. A dozen voices arose out of the depths; and all 
were loud in expressing their indignation at being brought to 
41 



482 JOURNAL. 

such a dark, dirty hole. Seeing a ghmmering of light through 
a chink in the rocks, in a different quarter from that by which 
we had entered, I groped my way towards it, followed by two 
or three of my companions ; and after a few involuntary pros- 
trations, and accumulating a reasonable quantity of the slimy 
soil, on hands, face, knees and elbows, and creeping on all 
fours across a chasm, we escaped to the upper ^ir — not like 
the Trojan hero, by an ivory gate ; but like wood-chucks 
smoked out of their burrow. The party were now emerging 
one by one from the passage which they had so precipitately 
entered, some bearing heavy fragments of schist, covered 
with slime, and others clearing off the mud from their gar- 
ments, or rubbing knees and elbows which had suffered in the 
adventure. The ludicrous appearance of the party com- 
pletely restored their good humour ; but the hail of the boat- 
men left us no leisure for new discoveries. 

As we sailed down the lake, the scenery on both sides lost 
some of its ruggedness and desolation, and improved in beau- 
ty. On the east side, Ben-Lomond rises from the very mar- 
gin of the water, to a height of more than three thousand feet. 
The cloud of mist which hovered around its summit occa- 
sionally rolled down, and exposed its bare top to view. It 
had been my intention to land at the Tarbet Inn and ascend 
the mountain ; but I felt my strength so much reduced by a 
fever, which had hung upon me ever since leaving Edinburgh, 
that I was reluctantly obliged to give up the excursion. The 
distance from the inn to the top of the mountain is said to be 
six miles ; and the traveller is often disappointed of his ex- 
pected view, by the clouds in which he is enveloped on reach- 
ing the top. An elevated range of mountains continues to 
skirt the eastern side of the lake, from Ben-Lomond quite 
down to the outlet, the more sheltered parts of which are 
adorned with plantations of trees, and gentlemen's country 
seats. The lake is about thirty miles long from north to south, 
and varying in breadth from one to three or four miles. The 
southern portion of it where we were now sailing is studded 
with a number of beautiful islands, delightfully green and 
shady. On some of the largest were herds of deer grazing, 



DUMBARTON. 



483 



which shot away through the glades at the starthng sound of 
our bagpipes. After our sojourn among naked rocks and 
heather, it was truly refreshing to be greeted again with the 
sight of verdure, and the improvements of civilized life. We 
were landed at Balloch, a little village at the mouth of the 
lake, just before sun-set, and took coach to Dumbarton, a dis- 
tance of five miles. The fair at Balloch had brought togeth- 
er a large concourse of people, who flocked to the pier in a 
drizzling rain to see us land. 

The road to Dumbarton lies along the western bank of the 
Leven, a stream immortalized in song by SmoUet's beautiful 
Ode to Leven Water. It flows out of Loch Lomond at Bal- 
loch ; and after a short course through pleasant fields, and 
among thickets of birches, is lost in the waters of the Clyde 
at Dambarton. 

''Pure stream ! in whose transparent wave 
My youthful limbs I wont to lave — 
Devolving from thy parent lake, 
A charming maze thy waters make, 
By bowers of bii-ch, and groves of pine, 
And hedges flowered with eglantine." 

About two miles from Dumbarton is an old mansion house, on 
the bank of the river, in which the poet and historian was 
born ; and near by, is a handsome Tuscan column erected to 
his memory. The scenery along this delightful river is soft 
and rural, consisting of verdant meadows and rich pasture 
lands, separated by hedge fences which still retain their 
greenness. We crossed the stream by a handsome stone 
bridge, and entered Dambarton, a large and irregular town, 
situated at its junction with the Clyde. As we drove direct- 
ly through the place to the wharves, we could only take no- 
tice of the narrowness of the streets, and of the numerous 
glass-houses which filled the town with smoke. It was sun- 
set when we w^ent on board the Glasgow steam-boat ; and a 
few moments detention at the wharf gave me an opportunity 
of sketching Dumbarton Castle, and the singular eminence on 
which it is situated. At the junction of the Clyde and Leven, 
a short distance from the town, two high conical rocks, uni- 
ted near the base, rise apparently to the height of two hun- 



484 JOURNAL. 

dred feet. These are girded by the walls of the castle, 
which look like an irregular belt laid round the hills, and as- 
cending on one side nearly to the top. It was formerly 
deemed impregnable, and is still kept in repair as a station 
for soldiers. 

From Dumbarton to Glasgow is about fourteen miles. The 
Clyde is here a wide estuary flowing between low banks, of- 
ten fringed with wood, but offering little variety of prospect. 
The evening was delightfully clear ; and I was glad to escape 
from the stench of hot whiskey punch to the deck, to enjoy 
the bracing air of the river, and mark the broad shadows cast 
upon its perfectly smooth surface by the trees and objects on 
the shore. Whatever musings I might have been disposed 
to indulge in were interrupted by the sounds of drunken merri- 
ment below. In the party on Loch Lomond were a number 
of young Englishmen, who by their dress and manners might 
have been taken for gentlemen, had not their devotion to the 
bottle given the lie to their pretensions. On our disembarking 
at Balloch, some of them were unable to get to the carriages 
without assistance ; and before we arrived at Glasgow, they 
were stowed away in a state of most beastly intoxication. 
Much as intemperance prevails in the United States, I have 
never witnessed such scenes on board any of our steam -boats, 
and am confident they- would not be permitted. We reached 
Glasgow about ten in the evening ; and took lodgings at the 
Star Inn, a spacious establishment in Ingraham Street. Here, 
we found the same disgusting custom prevailing, v/hich I have 
observed in all the public houses in Scotland. The first care 
of a traveller, after he has washed off the dust, is, to seat 
himself in the public room, and call for a mutchkin of whis- 
key, with hot water and sugar. These are placed on the ta- 
ble, and he commences mixing a little at a time, sipping it 
hot, atid turning over the newspapers. Thus he goes on, 
mixing quantity after quantity, till the contents of the mutch- 
kin, which will hold a gill or more, are exhausted ; and he 
rises from his potations, if not in a state of inebriety, yet far 
from being sober. I am confident no American constitution 
could resist the effects of this fiery drink for more than a year 



GLASGOW. 



485 



or two ; it would end in apoplexy or delirium ; but in this cli- 
mate, the poison operates more slowly. In the publick room 
of the inn, I counted ten or twelve engaged in the manner I 
have described ; and as they retired to their lodgings, their 
places were supplied by others. Whiskey is the favourite 
beverage ; and a more wretched and corrosive liquor was 
never distilled, unless it be the cider brandy of New England. 

Our long beards and soiled garments were letters of recom- 
mendation not calculated to introduce us to the special atten- 
tions of our host ; and we were accordingly stowed away with- 
out ceremony in very paltry lodgings. All the eloquence we 
could use was insufficient to persuade the knight of the bed- 
chamber that we were personages of some consequence, enti- 
tied to comfortable apartments at least ; and from his red- 
haired, bare-footed underlings, we got nothing but abuse, in 
answer to our request to be supplied with the most common 
articles of convenience. I retired feverish, fasting, and fa- 
tigued ; and passed the night without sleep. 

Sept. 16. — After breakfast, I set out in quest of such ob- 
jects of curiosity as the city affords, and directed my walk 
towards the University. The buildings are separated from 
High Street by dead stone walls, and are accessible by two 
or three gate-ways. The University consists of four courts 
of unequal size, surrounded by buildings erected at vari- 
rious periods, and in various styles of architecture ; but gen- 
erally plain, inelegant, and old-fashioned. The quadrangles 
all communicate with each other, and with the college-yards 
in the rear, a spacious plat of ground extending to a deep dell, 
and planted with shade trees and shrubbery. After wander- 
ing for a while through narrow courts and dark alleys, I call- 
ed on Professor Sandford, with whom I had become acquaint- 
ed at Edinburgh, at the house of his father, the Bishop of the 
Diocese. He received his education at Oxford, and has late- 
ly been elected Professor of Greek in the University of Glas- 
gow. To his polite attentions I was indebted for an opportu- 
nity to examine the Museum, lately bequeathed to the institu- 
tion by the celebrated Dr. Hunter of London. A handsome 
Doric building has been erected for the reception of this 
41* 



486 



JOURNAL. 



splendid collection, which is justly regarded as the pride of 
the institution. It consists of a fine gallery of paintings ; a 
vast variety of anatomical preparations ; a cabinet of medals, 
and a library. The cabinet of medals is one of the most ex- 
tensive in the kingdom, and contains many specimens of great 
antiquity. The Trustees of the British Museum are said to 
have offered £25,000 sterling for this department alone ; 
which liberal offer was declined. The University Library, 
though not large, is extremely valuable. 

Leaving the University, I followed the narrow, winding 
street, over rough pavements, up the hill towards the cathe- 
dral, whose tall spire was conspicuous in all parts of the city. 
Upon attaining the summit of the hill, I came to a low wall 
enclosing an area of two or three acres ; and passing through 
a gate, found myself in the burying ground which surrounds 
the Minster. The pile itself is a gloomy and massive, rather 
than an elegant structure, of a dark-coloured free- stone ; and 
displays less of ornamental carving than is usually seen on 
Gothic Cathedrals. The effect, however, is grand and im- 
posing ; and standing as it does apart from the bustle of the 
city, and close by a deep dell, through v/hich, invisible to the 
eye, a murmuring rivulet wanders over a pebbly bottom, it 
has an air even of sequestered solitude. On the opposite side 
of the dell rises a steep bank, covered with evergreens, which, 
sending their umbrageous fohage across the narrow ravine, 
and overhanging the cemetery, add greatly to the solemnity 
of the scene. As I stood gazing at the majestic pile, and ob- 
served the niches divested of their statues, and the mutilated 
heads which had once been carved in the architecture, I 
thought of Andrew Fairservice's description of its narrow es- 
cape from " a doun-come lang syne at the Reformation," 
when so many kirks " were pu'd down to cleanse them o' 
Papery, and idolatry, and image-worship, and surplices, 
and sic like rags o' the muckle boor that sitteth on seven 
hills." The neighbouring villagers, fired with emulation on 
hearing of the glorious havock which Knox's zealots were 
making with the churches elsewhere, assembled to adminis- 
ter the same rough physic to the kirk of St. Mungo ; but the 



GLASGOW CATHEDRAL. 487 

towns-people happened to be of a different opinion, and fairly- 
offered battle in defence of their cathedral. The affair was 
compromised, however, by a sacrifice of the idolatrous parts 
of the architecture ; " and sae the bits o' stane idols were 
broken in pieces by Scripture warrant, and flung into the 
Molendinar burn, and the auld kirk stood as crouse as a cat 
when the fleas are caimed aff her, and a' body was alike 
pleased." 

Proceeding over the broad, flat, monumental stones, which 
cover the narrow houses where the weary are at rest, I en- 
tered the cathedral by a low side-door ; but instead of the long 
drawn aisles, and vistas of clustered columns, which the form 
and dimensions of the exterior had promised, I found myself 
in a house of worship of the ordinary size, but ill-proportion- 
ed, and of very broken architecture. A second glance ex- 
plained the cause of this appearance. The Scotch, with 
more attention to economy than regard to the proprieties of 
architecture, have divided the nave into two apartments for 
publick worship, by carrying a partition quite up to the roof; 
and erected another across the entrance into the choir, which 
is used as a place of interment. The effect of these innova- 
tions has been to destroy the beauty and grandeur of the in- 
terior, and ruin the groined ceiling of the vault. In its pre- 
sent state, there is little in the inside to satisfy the curiosity 
of the visiter, or to fulfil the expectations excited by a view of 
the front. After perambulating the various apartments and 
dark cells, which once formed the spacious area of a noble 
cathedral, and visiting the tomb of St. Mungo, the patron 
Saint to whom it was dedicated, I returned to renew my sur- 
vey of the building without. Compared with most of the En- 
glish cathedrals it is of inferior size, and of far less pretending 
architecture. The spire bears a miniature resemblance to 
that of the Cathedral of Salisbury, and rises to a considerable 
height. The building is of great antiquity, having been erec 
ted early in the twelfth century, and consecrated in the pres- 
ence of king David I. 

Glasgow, being a city of modern growth, contains few an- 
tiquities entitled to any great share of attention. Those T 



4S8 JOURNAL. 

have already mentioned, together with the remaining tower 
ot" the old Toibooth, comprehend nearly the whole catalogue. 
The latter is a low square tower, with walls of enormous thick- 
ness, and grated windows, standing in the midst of the city 
near the Exchange. 

Among the publick buildings of modern date, few are wor- 
thy of particular notice. The Corinthian portico of St. An- 
drew's church is deservedly admired, and the Theatre is hand- 
some, without being magnificent. 

The population of Glasgow is now at least one hundred and 
fifty thousand, although at the time of the union it scarcely 
amounted to one eighth of that number. The streets along 
the Clyde exhibit all the bustle of a great commercial city ; 
and the manufactories of various kinds, particularly of cotton 
goods, are very extensive. The city stretches about two 
miles along the northern bank of the river, with a breadth 
not much exceeding a mile. The lower part is nearly level, 
while the rest lies on the southern declivity of a hill of mode- 
rate elevation. The eastern portion, in the neighbourhood 
of the college and cathedral, is the most ancient ; and pre- 
sents the narrow, crooked streets, and ill-built houses, which 
are characteristick of other times ; but these defects are reme- 
died in the modern part of the city. Here, the streets are 
regular, spacious, and admirably paved; the houses of free- 
stone are large and lofty, and every thing is in a style of the 
most perfect neatness. Few cities which I have seen have 
an appearance of more solid wealth and greater comfort. 

The city communicates with the southern suburbs by four 
bridges across the Clyde, which is navigable to the lower 
bridge for vessels of one hundred tons burthen. This is a 
beautiful stone structure, inferior only to Waterloo bridge in 
beauty of design. Two of the others are also of stone, very 
solidly built ; and the fourth is a handsome wooden bridge for 
foot-passengers. 

The Green is a fine expanse of turfed ground on the south 
side of the river, bordering on the populous village of Calton. 
It is laid off" in walks, and is not only frequented by the citi- 
zens for purposes of recreation, but used as a washing and 



GLASGOW. 489 

bleaching ground. It contains upwards of one hundred acres. 
The unfinished monument of Nelson occupies the middle of 
a square on the northern bank of the river. It was struck 
with lightning when nearly completed, and so much damaged 
as to require to be partly taken down, before the work can be 
carried on. It is probably owing more to a failure of funds, 
than to the alleged hazard of approaching the threatening 
column, that the mutilated monument has stood for so many 
years in its present awkward position. 

The country, stretching along the banks of the Clyde for 
many miles in both directions, is generally fertile, and in a 
high state of cultivation. It is a broad valley, gently depress- 
ed, and contains a number of populous villages, more or less 
connected with the metropolis, and inhabited by the opera- 
tive tradesmen. The countiy is also rich in coal, lime-stone 
and iron-ore ; affording great advantages to the agricultural 
and manufacturing classes. Quarries of free stone and gra- 
nite abound in the vicinity, furnishing the best of materials 
for building and paving the city. Water is supplied in abun- 
dance from reservoirs, which are replenished from the river 
by steam engines. After undergoing a filtration, it is con- 
veyed in iron pipes to every part of the city and suburbs, and 
supplied to the inhabitants at a moderate price. In short, if 
Glasgow cannot boast of the magnificence of the eastern me- 
tropolis of Scotland ; it more than equals it in the appearances 
of wealth and comfort which it displays. 

It is a disadvantage which attends travelling in haste, that 
one is debarred the pleasure and profit of forming acquaint- 
ances among the inhabitants. He can only take a rapid 
glance at the objects which present themselves to the eye ; 
describe the natural scenery and the works of art which fall 
under his observation ; and then pass on. I accepted an invi- 
tation to dine with Professor S at the University ; but 

was obliged by ill health to retire, immediately after dinner, 
from an agreeable party. A return of fever— bad accom^ 
modations — servants perfectly inattentive, and loneliness — 
for my travelling companion had now left me — all conspired 
to render my situation comfortless. The next morning, the 



490 JOURNAL. 

coach, in which I had secured a seat to Carlisle, departed 
without me, and the day was passed at my lodgings in rumi- 
nations of no very cheering character. 



CHAPTER LII. 



»EPARTURE FROM GLASGOW KILMARNOCK — HOUSE OF BURNS — REFLEC- 
TIONS — MAUCHLIN — SANQUHAR NITHSDALE DUMFRIES SOLWAY 

SANDS —GRETNA GREEN CARLISLE SUNDAY CATHEDRAL ST. 

CUTHBERT's EARLY HISTORY OF CARLISLE CITY WALLS CITADEL 

AND CASTLE COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS DEPARTURE PENRITH 

KENDAL CASTLE CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS LANCASTER CASTLE 

PRESTON — ARRIVAL AT LIVERPOOL A. HODGSON, ESQ. REMARKS. 

Saturday, Sept. 18th. — I summoned strength sufficient to 
rise at an early hour, and to place myself in the coach to 
Carlisle. To Kilmarnock, about twenty-two miles from 
Glasgow, the country is rather barren and uninteresting, 
We had left the wild scenery of the Highlands behind when 
we lost sight of the shores of Loch Lomond : and although 
Ayreshire abounds in many rural beauties, they are of the soft 
and quiet character which leaves little impression on the 
mind. The small county of Renfrewshire, which stretches 
along the south bank of the Clyde, is generally level, inter- 
spersed with peat bogs and heathy swells ; but as we ap- 
proached Kilmarnock, the country improved in fertility. 
This place is celebrated for its manufactories of coarse wool- 
ens, carpets, and cotton-stufFs ; and the coach had no soon- 
er pulled up before the public house where we were to break- 
fast, than it was surrounded with a squad of ragged apprenti- 
ces, and " batches o' wabster lads, blackguarding frae Kil- 
marnock," such as figure in Burns' description of an Ordi- 
nation or a Holy Fair. The population of the place is eight 
or nine thousand ; but the buildings are generally mean, and 
the streets crooked and dirtv. Near the town is the unfinish- 



HOUSE OF BURNS. 491 

ed building of Loudon Castle, designed to be one of the 
largest and most splendid mansions in the kingdom. The 
Irvine, a pleasant little river, crosses the road about a mile to 
the south of the town, beyond which, the country becomes 
rather more hilly and less fertile. Few trees grow in this 
region, and the state of cultivation indicates no high degree 
of improvement in the art. The oat harvest is gathering in, 
and the labour is principally performed by women, who wield 
their sickles with a dexterity and vigour not inferior to that of 
the other sex. 

Just before we reached Mauchlin, we passed a house on our 
right, which was pointed out by my stage companions as the 
residence of the poet Burns. It is alow tenement one story 
high, situated in the midst of a stretch of level country, and 
almost hidden by trees. What a melancholy example was 
afforded by that unhappy man, of genius, as often Avaging a 
reckless warfare with religion and good morals, as enlisted in 
the support of virtue — of intellectual riches, kept to the hurt 
of the owner thereof ! Amidst the extravagant praise and 
admiration, which it has been the fashion to lavish on his 
writings, their immoral tendency has been too often kept out 
of sight ; a tendency, but imperfectly redeemed by his Sat- 
urday Night, and a few other poems of a similar character. 
His religion was no more than a poetical sentiment ; an oc- 
casional glow of fervid fancy, which imposed no restraint on 
his headstrong passions. To these he abandoned himself, 
and they proved his ruin. The even course of well-balan- 
ced virtue had no charms for him ; life was with him a pos- 
session of no value, without the seasoning of high excite- 
ment ; and to this, he fell a splendid victim. When history 
takes cognizance of characters like that of Burns — and this 
will continue to be the case so long as genius is worshipped — 
ought it not to deal less in the language of indiscriminate eu- 
logy 1 Is it not due to the paramount interests of sound vir- 
tue and religion, that, while there is no extenuation of the 
^^Irtry wherein the subject is worthy, his offences against mor- 
al order should not be slurred over, as if it were a sin against 
the prerogative of genius to intimate, that virtue had higher 



492 



JOURNAL. 



and more sacred claims on the reverence of immortal be- 
ings ? He who leads an immoral life, is justly accountable 
for the mischief produced by his example ; while he- who 
teaches immorality with all the advantages of a fervid and 
fascinating genius, incurs a more fearful responsibility. 
" Whosoever shall break one of these least commandments, 
and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the 
kingdom of heaven." 

Pflauchlin is a smart looking town situated near the Ayr, 
which, after a course of a few miles to the westward, empties 
into the Frith of Clyde. Crossing this stream, and soon 
after, the Glenmore one of its tributaries, we passed through 
Old and New Cumnock, both insignificant villages, occurring 
in the midst of wide and unfertile plains. Near the latter 
place, the Nith takes its rise in a little pond by the side of 
the road ; which follows the course of the stream all the way 
to Dumfries. Sanquhar is a village, dignified with the name 
of a borough, on the left bank of the Nith. It consists of 
one principal street half a mile long, on which a number of 
meanly built, straggling houses are situated ; and a plain old 
church of pointed architecture. The most interesting object 
in the vicinity is the ruins of Sanquhar Castle, the ancient 
seat of the Crichtons ; a name rendered famous by the ex- 
traordinary accomplishments of one of the family, known as 
" the admirable Crichton." The ruins lie on the south side 
of the town, and are fast crumbling into a shapeless pile. 

We now entered into the picturesque scenery of Nithsdale, 
which supplies a great variety of beautiful rural views, as 
the traveller follows the windings of the stream. The banks 
are often abrupt, presenting surfaces of slate and lime-stone 
overhung by trees ; and the numerous sudden turns of the 
river, to escape the bold bluffs and green knolls which op- 
pose its course, form an endless variety of prospect. A 
mac-nificent seat of the Duke of Buccleuch stands at the 
entrance of the dale, and but a short distance from Sanquhar. 
This young nobleman, who has lately come into possession of 
his estate and title, is said to be the richest nobleman in 
Scotland. — Pursuing our ride, without meeting with any other 



SOLWAY SANDS. 



493 



object worthy of particular attention, we crossed the Nith 
again by an elegant stone bridge ; and halted at Dumfries 
about five for dinner. 

This is a town of considerable importance, and is exceed- 
ingly well built of a red free-stone, which abounds in the 
neighbourhood. It occupies the eastern bank of the stream, 
just where it begins to widen into an estuary. The scener)' 
in the neighbourhood offers a variety of beautiful views, 
adorned with the elegant mansions of the rich. The town 
itself is neat, airy, and well paved ; and has the appearance 
of being a populous and thriving place. Our surveys were 
necessarily limited to the objects which were visible from the 
top of the coach, as the fifteen minutes allowed for despatch- 
ing our dinner left us no time for rambling. 

As we proceeded on our route, the Solway began to appear 
at a distance on our right, with its wide wastes of sand 
which are overflowed at every tide. At the ebb, these sandy 
flats are laid bare for some miles from the shore ; but its re- 
flux is so rapid and violent as to sweep every thing before it, 
and is attended with a loud roaring noise, which may be 
heard at a great distance. As I sat gazing at these treache- 
rous sands, the twilight gradually stole them from my view ; 
and we soon after drove into Annan, a neat little place not 
far from the shore of the Solway, where we arrived in the 
dusk of the evening. The road from Dumfries pursues a 
south-easterly direction along the coast, towards the head of 
the Frith, where a sm^U stream called the Liddel forms the 
boundary line between England and Scotland. Here is situ- 
ated the Gretna Green, so famous in the annals of fugitive 
lovers, to whom the severe laws of Old England forbid the 
banns of matrimony. Four or five very ordinary houses 
scattered along a broad, shady street, compose the whole 
village of Gretna Green. Crossing the Liddel, and pursuing 
our ride two or three miles farther, we entered " merry Car. 
lisle" between nine and ten in the evening, having accom- 
plished one hundred and twenty miles— «the distance from 
Glasgow being one hundred by the most direct route. 

Sunday, Sept. 19th.— At the hour of worship I went to the 
42 



^^'^ JOURNAL. 

Cathedral, and heard the service performed, though m a 
much less impressive manner than I had often witnessed else- 
where. The choir was far from being complete, and parts 
of the service only were chanted. An excellent sermon was 
delivered to a thin audien<je ; the effect of a rainy day in re- 
ducing the numbers of a congregation being probably the 
same in all parts of the world. The Cathedral was erected 
at various periods, and in different styles of architecture. 
Some parts of it are evidently Saxon ; while in others, the 
Norman and heavy Gothic prevail. The general appearance 
is massy and solid, rather than elegant, although there are 
not wanting examples of richly ornamented entail. In the 
eastern window, there is a very beautiful example of the foli- 
ated, or ramified tracery, introduced early in the fourteenth 
century. The mullions, instead of rising perpendicularly till 
they intersect the arch, branch off at the spring of the arch, 
crossing and intersecting each other like the fibres of a leaf. 
The effect of this interlacing of the mullions is singularly 
light and graceful. The building appears to great disadvan- 
tage, having been " curtailed of its fair proportions" in the 
civil wars ; at which period, nearly one hundred feet of the 
nave was pulled down, for materials to erect guard-houses 
and batteries. The mutilated end has been closed up by a 
rough wall, and the transept converted into a parochial 
church. The main arches here, and in the part of the nave 
which still remains, are semi-circulai-, and rest on pillars of 
prodigious thickness ; the height of each being about fourteen 
feet, while the diameter is nearly six. The cathedral, like 
most of the old buildings in the city, is constructed of a coarse 
kind of free-stone, of a deep red colour. In times of papal 
superstition, Carlisle contained a number of religious houses, 
which disappeared, when Henry VIII. took so strong a liking 
to their fat revenues. Some few remains of walls and cloys- 
ters are still to be seen, incorporated with the more recent 
buildings. In the afternoon, I went to St. Cuthbert's, the on- 
ly other church in Carlisle belonging to the establishment. It 
is a plain edifice of moderB date ; and although the congrega- 
tion and preacher have the reputation of belonging to the 



CARLISLE. 495 

evangelical party in the church, the sermon was dispensed 
with, and evening prayers only were read, to a very thin con- 
gregation. 

Carlisle has experienced a great variety of vicissitudes, 
having suffered more than its full proportion of the calamities 
of war during the contest of the roses, the hostilities between 
Charles I. and his parliament, and the frequent incursions of 
the Scotch. The coins and antiquities which have been dug 
up, as well as the testimony of early historians, plainly indi- 
cate it to have been the station of a Roman colony. After 
they had abdicated the island, the city continued to be a place 
of some consequence, until, in one of the marauding expedi- 
tions of the Danes, it was burnt to the ground, and its walls 
were overthrown. For two hundred years it lay desolate, 
but was resuscitated under William of Normandy, through the 
exertions of Walter a priest. Its frontier situation has al- 
ways subjected it to the horrors of battles and sieges, in the 
frequent wars between England and Scotland. The last oc- 
currence of this kind happened in the rebellion of 1745, when 
the city surrendered to the Pretender after a short siege. 

The situation is extremely fine. It stands on a rising 
ground gently elevated from the bosom of fertile meadows, 
which are watered by the Eden, the Caldew, and the Pete-- 
ril. The city is surrounded by a. wall, and the space inclu- 
ded is somewhat in the form of an irregular triangle. The 
buildings, however, have extended considerably beyond these 
limits, and are chiefly scattered around the vicinity of the 
city gates, which are three in number, and are called the Eng- 
lish, Scotch, and Irish gates. The wall itself is weak, haVc 
ing been constructed before the introduction of heavy batter- 
ing artillery ; and by no means calculated to sustain a regular 
siege. Many parts of it are in a state of dilapidation ; it is 
ascended by flights of steps, and some delightful views " over 
the wide-watered shore" are presented from the top. The 
citadel is an oblong edifice, with a circular tower at each end, 
perforated with loop-holes for the discharge of arrows. This, 
with the English gate-way to v/hich it is joined, was the work 



496 JOURNAL. 

of Henry VIII. The towers are low, and of immense thick- 
ness. 

The Castle stands at the north-western angle of elevated 
land, on which the city is built ; arid contains another citadel, 
or square, massive tower, of considerable height, and of great 
thickness of wall. One of the ancient portcullises still re- 
mains in a gate of the castle ; and answers precisely to the 
figures embossed in the Gothic ceiling of Henry Vllth's chap- 
el ; and that of King's College, Cambridge. It consists of a 
row of heavy iron bars placed perpendicularly about a foot 
asunder, the lower extremity being pointed like the head of 
an arrow ; and these again crossed by other bars, the whole 
being firmly riveted together. This formidable machine is 
placed across the gate-way on the outside of the gate, and 
njade to slide up and down in grooves cut in the jambs on 
either side. It is raised by a windlass and lever, and held 
suspended by machinery, which on being displaced, lets the 
portcullis fall, its armed points entering into a groove in the 
pavement. The gate was thus protected against the battle- 
axes of the assailants, and whatever weapons were in use in 
those rude times, when the science of offensive and defensive 
war was yet in its infancy. Happily for Great Britain, her 
insulated situation has long since rendered unnecessary t\ie 
ponderous fortifications which hem in the frontier towns on 
the continent ; and the few monuments of feudal warfare 
which the hand of modern improvement has spared, serve on- 
ly to gratify the taste of the antiquary. The castle was for 
some time the prison of the unfortunate Queen of Scots, on 
her retreat from her kingdom after the fatal battle of Lang- 
side. The population of Carlisle is about twelve thousand. 
The streets are generally narrow, and few of the houses are 
elegant. Some of the old tenements, of wood, clay, and 
laths, are still remaining in the skirts of the city ; and with 
their gables projecting over the narrow streets, give a very 
old-fashioned appearance to the place, out of all keeping with 
the modern houses of brick. The calico-printing business is 
carried on here to a considerable extent, and furnishes em- 
ployment to upwards of a thousand persons. 



COMMERCIAL TRAVELLlERS. 497 

At the Inn where I stopped, I found a number of commer- 
cial travellers, who are met with at the pubhck houses in al- 
most every village and town in England. They are agents, 
employed by commercial and manufacturing houses to collect 
debts, and contract for the sale of goods. They form a class 
by themselves, and are generally distinguished by their supe- 
rior intelligence and agreeable manners. Their home is on 
the top of the coach, or in the commercial room of the Inn ; 
and their life is one of perpetual motion. In the evening, one 
of them pronounced a very warm eulogium on " the noble 
science of defence ;" but it was gratifying to see that he stood 
alone in his admiration of the pugilistick art. He was en- 
countered at once by all the persons present ; and after sJiow- 
ing fight as long as he could, was fairly beaten from the field. 
I have always found these travelling agents well acquainted 
with whatever was worth seeing on the road, and as ready to 
satisfy my enquiries. It rarely happens that a coach -load 
of passengers departs, without some of them-being of the num- 
ber. 

Sept. 20th. — We left Carlisle about five in the morning, 
and commenced our ride over a country generally level, and 
tolerably well cultivated. The scenery was illuminated by a 
beautifully clear sun, which generally has the effect of exhil- 
arating the spirits of a party of travellers, and putting Ihem 
in good humour with each other. Passing the villages of 
High and Low Hcsket, we stopped to breakfast at Penrith, 
seventeen miles from Carlisle. This is an ancient lookino- 
town, containing a population of four or five thousand. It 
stands on the Ulswater, a small stream tributary to the Eden, 
and forming the boundary between the counties of Cumber, 
land and Westmoreland. The outward fosse and ruined ram- 
parts are all that remain of Penrith Castle, which was once 
a hold of considerable strength. In the church-5fard is a sin- 
gular tomb, which has been a source of great perplexity to 
the antiquaries. It consists of two curiously wrought stone 
pillars, about seven or eight feet high, and fifteen feet apart ; 
and is populai'ly known by the name of the " Giant's Grave." 
That it covers the remains of some Pictish warrior, is highly 
42* 



498 



JOURNAL. 



probable. Little time was allowed us for exploring ruins and 
ancient monuments, as we were soon summoned by the bugle 
of the guard to resume our seats on the coach. 

A short ride brought us in sight of Brougham Hall, the seat 
of Henry Brougham, Esq., situated to the left of the road ; 
and still further on we passed Lowther Hall, the mansion of 
the Earl of Lonsdale. The country here is beautifully brok- 
en into hill and dale, and the scenery is rich and verdant. 
Descending a long hill by the side of a deep ravine, we came 
into a charming valley, in which stands Kendal, one of the 
ancient towns in the North of England. It is surrounded 
with smooth green hills of moderate elevation ; and the valley 
is watered by the Ken, a little stream which winds away 
through the meadows tov/ards the sea. One of the first ob- 
jects of attention is the ruins of Kendal Castle, situated in the 
south-eastern suburbs of the town, on the summit of a hill. 
Four mutilated towers, with a series of broken walls and 
arches, are all that remain of the fortress, where Catharine 
Parr, the last of the numerous wives of Henry VHL, was 
born. The town itself is old, and irregularly built on very 
narrow streets. The houses of wood and plaster, the steep 
gables, and jutting stories, give it an air of great antiquity, and 
denote how little change the place has undergone for the last 
century or two. That it was once famous for its manufacture 
of green cloth, we have the testimony of Shakspeare, whose 
hero, FalstafT, was beset by " three misbegotten knaves in 
Kendal green," and robbed of the profits of the Gadshill ex- 
pedition, as he chose to relate the matter to the frolick-loving 
prince. The population amounts to about seven thousand. 

Fi'om various points on the road near Kendal, we had fine 
distant views of the Cumberland mountains, with their clear 
outline relieved by a beautifully transparent sky. When 
seen from this distance, they had the appearance of being 
utterly destitute of verdure, and looked like immense piles of 
rocks, heaving their glittering summits high into the air ; 
while the valleys were hidden beneath a drapery of light white 
vapour. The fineness of the day almost tempted me to re- 
sume my intention of paying a visit to the lakes, which had 



LANCASTER. 499 

been given up in consequence of my detention in Glasgow : 
but the expedition would have detained me another week, and 
I thought of home. At Burton, we crossed the dividing Une 
between Westmoreland aiad Lancaster, and for some miles 
had a fine prospect of " The Sands," and the bay of More- 
combe. The approach to Lancaster, which is over a level 
country, is singularly striking. The ruins of the noble old 
castle, the spires of the city, and the elevated bank on which 
it is built, lay basking beneath the clear rays of the sun, and 
presented an agreeable assemblage of objects as seen from 
the northern road. .The castle is a structure of great antiqui- 
ty. The walls, which are strengthened with various towers, 
enclose a space upwards of three hundred and fifty feet 
square ; and the principal gate-way is fortified with semi- 
octagonal projections, perforated for the discharge of arrows. 
The great tower of the castle is still standing, and is a monu- 
ment of strength, for the days in which it was built. The 
walls are of immense thickness, and the lower windows have 
the short, rounded arches seen in some of the earliest exam- 
ples of military architecture. The city, which is of no great 
extent, is built on the south-eastern side of the Loyne, which 
is crossed by a stone bridge. It has been rendered famous 
in history by giving the title to one of the rival houses, whose 
contentions for the crown so long deluged the island with 
blood. Leaving the city, we continued our ride over a level 
champaign, with occasional glimpses of the sea on our right, 
from the slight elevations which were crossed by the road. 
In a lonely situation, we passed the ruins of Greenhaugh cas- 
tie, almost covered with wild briars and the ruin-loving ivy. 
It is of small extent ; but from the solitude of the neighbour- 
ing scenery, and the fantastick forms of its broken architec- 
ture, it cannot fail to attract observation. We arrived late 
in the afternoon at Preston, where we halted for dinner. 

The appearance of Preston indicates an unusual degree of 
opulence and refinement in the inhabitants. Many of the 
houses are tastefully built ; and an air of neatness, and even 
of elegance, is observable in almost all parts of the town. It 
stands on the northern bank of the Ribble, at the head of a 



500 Journal. 

broad estuary which opens into the Irish Sea. It was the 
theatre of one of the most bloody contentions between the 
forces of Charles I. and the republican party, the royal army 
having been defeated here with great slaughter, by the gen- 
erals Cromwell and Lambert. 

On leaving Preston, our road lay for some distance along 
the bank of the estuary; but twilight coming on, put an end 
to our observations on the surrounding country. That part 
of Lancaster which lies next the coast, forms a widely ex- 
tended plain, interrupted by only slight undulations scarcely 
deserving the name of hills. During the last eight or ten 
miles we passed over a well paved road, the first example of 
the kind I have met with in England, We saw as much of 
Ormskirk as could be seen by gas-light ; and arrived at Liv- 
erpool about nine in the evening. Distance from Carlisle 
one hundred and twenty miles. 

The following three days were occupied in calling on 
friends, and making preparations for departure. I had the 
pleasure of passing an evening with Adam Hodgson, Esq., 
"whose candid remarks on the character and manners of the 
people of the United States entitle him to the high considera- 
tion of every American, and are worthy the attention of those 
of his countrymen, who would form just ideas of the young 
Republic. They exhibit throughout a spirit of candour and 
love of truth, a correctness of observation, and a strain of moral 
and religious feeling, which entitle their author to the high- 
est praise, and go far to redeem the character of English 
travellers in America. In his manners, Mr. H. is modest 
and unassuming ; and in conversation, he exhibits a happy 
union of the gentleman, the man of business, the scholar and 
the enlightened christian. I regretted the necessity of so 
soon relinquishing an acquaintance so agreeably begun ; but 
the packet was to sail the next day, and my passage had been 
engaged. 

In bidding adieu to this country of my forefathers, where I 
have passed the greatest part of a year, I should not do jus- 
tice to my feelings, were I to withhold my testimony to the 
iong established character of its inhabitants for cordial hos- 



REMARKS. 501 

pitaiity ; and, to what seems yet a matter of doubt with many 
of my countrymen, the manifestation of none but kind feel- 
ings towards the American people. With regard to the lat- 
ter, I have scarcely met with a single instance to shake my 
belief, that the mass of the English population view their de- 
scendants in the United States with a feeling of friendliness, 
which they entertain for the people of no other nation ; and 
I can say with truth, that the attentions I have received from 
the great variety of persons to whom I have been introduced, 
have in no instance been less than I had reason to expect 
from liberal and enlightened men, and often far more than 
equal to the just claims of an obscure foreigner. I recall 
these proofs of friendly regard with peculiar pleasure, at the 
moment when I am about to leave these shores, probably 
never to return ; and the impression they have made on my 
mind, I trust, will remain with me through life. 

To statesmen and political economists, I leave the task of 
discussing questions of state policy ; but not without the con- 
viction, that it requires far higher attainments in the science 
of government as applicable to the habits and circumstances 
of the English people^ than our theoretical politicians can 
lay claim to, to comprehend the intricate machinery of Eng- 
lish politicks. I must continue to believe that England may 
yet support herself a while under her load of national debt : 
and that she is not quite ready to be crushed by the operation 
of her poor laws. If wretchedness and want prevail in as 
great a degree as many would wish us to believe, it is in- 
credible how little they appear on the surface of society. 
Nothing is more fallacious than sweeping conclusions drawn 
from particular instances — an error not seldom committed 
by theorists, who, after reading a glowing article in the Ed- 
inburgh Review, on parliamentary corruption, the intolerance 
of the priesthood, and the miseries of the poor, lay the com- 
fortable conviction to heart, that the days of Old England's 
prosperity are numbered and finished. It is granted, that a 
deep search is required to find out all the evils which exist, 
in any state of society ; but strange mistakes are sometimes 
committed by overlooking what is obvious. With such ob- 



502 JOURNAL. 

servations as I have been able to make, in a variety of ex- 
cursions through most of the counties of England, I cannot 
bring myself to the conclusion, that Providence has dispensed 
the blessings of hberty and happiness to the mass of EngUsh 
population with a sparing hand. 

On the state of evangelical piety in the establishment, I 
have endeavoured to supply materials to the reader for 
forming his own judgment. It is as high as I expected to 
find it, and higher than many are M'illing to admit. The 
church now ranks among its preachers a large proportion of 
faithful men, whose zeal has ah'eady done much to redeem 
the clerical character, and elevate the standard of piety. 
The number of ministers of this stamp is evidently on the 
increase ; while that of fox-hunters and whist-players is as 
evidently on the decline. The cry of innovation and meth- 
odism, which, twenty years ago, was raised with some suc- 
cess against the evangelical clergy, as they were reproach, 
fully styled, has in a great measure lost its charm ; and a 
spirit has gone forth which promises, in the course of an- 
other half century, to place the established church of Eng- 
land on a more commanding elevation than it has ever occu- 
pied since the reformation. 



CHAPTER LIII. 



EMBARKATION PASSENGERS BAD WEATHER HEIGHT OF WAVES IN A 

GALE INCIDENT APPEARANCE OF THE SEA ON AND OFF SOUNDINGS 

BEAUTIFUL EFFECTS OF LIGHT ON THE WAVES — IDLE HOURS AT SEA 

LAND BIRDS PHENOMENA ON THE GRAND BANK — WHALES PROG- 
NOSTICATIONS OF BAD WEATHER. 

We were detained two days beyond the appointed time of 
sailing by a westerly gale, which rendered it impossible for 
us to get out of the river. On Sunday, the 26th, it had so 
far moderated as to encourage an attempt ; and we accord- 



EMBARKATION. 503 

ingly hauled out of Prince's Dock about ten in the morning, 
and were taken in tow by a steam-boat for the purpose of be- 
ing towed round The Rock. Our steamer performed her 
task so badly that we made very little progress ; and after de- 
taining, rather than helping us forward, for a couple of hours, 
she broke her fly-wheel, when we cast her off, and hoisted a 
press of sail to make the most of the ebb tide. The wind was 
strong ahead, with squalls of rain and hail ; and we could dis- 
tinctly observe the summits of the Welch mountains whitened 
by a fall of snow. The gale proved too violent to allow us to 
weather The Skerries — a group of rocks at the north-western 
extremity of Anglesea ; and we spent the night in beating 
against it under shortened sail, but without making the least 
progress. 

The Euphrates, in which we are embarked, commanded 
by Capt. Sprague, has been placed on the line of packets on- 
ly for a temporary purpose, and is reputed a good sailer as 
well as a safe vessel. Our party in the cabin is composed, 
besides myself, of an elderly gentleman and his wife, and a 
lady and her three daughters. Most of the company betook 
themselves to their berths in the agonies of sea-sickness, be- 
fore we had time to establish a mutual acquaintanceship ; and 
it was many days ere the whole group of pale faces made 
their appearance together in the cabin. 

As our passage was destined to be a long one, and not al- 
together barren of incidents, it may furnish amusement to some 
of my readers if I relate the events which occurred during 
the voyage, with more minuteness than their importance de- 
serves. I shall therefore venture to transcribe, from a some- 
what voluminous log book, whatever may best serve to con- 
vey the impressions made on an inexperienced sailor, during 
a stormy passage across the Atlantic. 

It was not till Monday evening that we weathered Holy- 
head, and commenced running down St. George's Channel 
before the gale, which however did not long continue to fa- 
vour us. For many days, we continued beating against strong 
head winds, which threw up a short, tumbling sea, to the great 
discomfort of the passengers. The Old Head of Kinsale, 



504 - JOURNAL. 

suggesting recollections of the melancholy fate of the Albion, 
was oflen in sight, as we stretched in towards the coast, en- 
deavouring to overcome a gale blowing almost directly on 
shore. At length, the faint outlines of Cape Clear, and of 
the mountains in the south of Ireland faded from the sight, 
after we had been a week detained in the Channel ; and with 
feelings of exultation we welcomed once more the boundless 
prospect of the ocean. We have still to contend with an ad- 
verse and broken sea, which confines most of the passengers 
to their berths. On Sunday we had divine service in the cab- 
in, our little congregation rallying strength and spirits enough 
to attend. 

Friday, Oct. 8. — We have had a succession of adverse 
winds, and are now lying to again under a gale from the west- 
ward, which hasrrolled up a formidable looking sea. The 
abruptness of the waves causes our ship to make some bad 
lurches, to the great terror of the female passengers. As yet, 
our progress has been small, the few fair breezes we have 
enjoyed having little more than sufficed to regain the distance 
lost by lying to. The sky overhead is clear, but slightly ob- 
scured in the horizon by a thin vapour ; the sun shines with 
a pale, sickly light, and the wind is hard and dry. The sea 
resembles the surface of the earth in a snow-storm, the spray 
being swept along like drifting snow, and with inconceivable 
rapidity. The waves appear to be from twelve to eighteen 
rods from ridge to ridge, and elevated about twenty feet above 
the bottom of the trough. The gale continued all night, but 
died away on the following morning, leaving our unsteady 
ship to the mercy of a heavy swell. How tiresome is this 
perpetual recurrence of the same monotonous roll ! Hour af- 
ter hour we sit, bracing ourselves against the next regular 
lurch, and listening to the vile creaking of masts, and grating 
of bulkheads. If we attempt to walk the cabin or promenade 
the deck, what sweeping lines of grace, what admirable zig- 
zags, do we describe ; and how would it puzzle Euclid to re- 
duce them under any specific classification of lines and fig- 
ures ! To-day, all hands are employed in making and rig- 
ging a new jib-boom, to replace the one which was carried 



EFFECTS OF A CROSS SEA. '^05 

away in the gale. In the general dearth of amusement, we 
felt much indebted to a grampus for paying us a visit, and 
playing his gambols alongside of the ship, as v/e lay idly roll- 
ing up and down the billows. He was of a light brown co- 
lour, about fifteen feet long ; and by his indefatigable spouting 
and blowing, appeared to be conscious of the satisfaction 
which his exhibition gave us. 

Sunday, Oct. 10th. — I was awakened this morning by the 
banging of blocks and the tramping of feet over head, and 
found myself rolled up on one side of my berth in a most in 
comprehensible manner. In short, we are all on one side, 
and hear the pipings of another gale through the rigging. 
" Una Eurusque Notusque ruunt, creberque procellis 
" Africus. — 
We have sun-bows, and moon-bows, and all sorts of meteoro- 
logical phenomena, indicative of foul weather. We still keep 
up a display of canvass to give the ship headway, by which 
she is rendered more manageable. In the evening, the 
gale so far moderated as to allow us to hate divine service in 
the cabin. 

Tuesday, 12th. — A little after midnight we were roused 
from our slumbers by- some heavy thumps against the stern, 
accompanied by the jingling of broken glass, and a splash of 
water on the cabin floor. We escaped pretty well, howev- 
er : only one of the windows had been broken in ; and a buck- 
et or two of water, after a few meanders among the chairs 
and trunks on the floor, found its way to the state-room of one 
of the ladies, to the great disturbance of her equanimity ; nor 
was it restored, till the cause of her terror had been transmit- 
ted by a few mop-fulls to a wash-bason. No time was lost 
however in getting in the dead-lights, to prevent more seri- 
ous consequences ; as the ship had got suddenly on the con- 
fines of two opposite winds, going sometimes ahead and some- 
times astern, with a cross sea breaking on her two extremi- 
ties. The shocks from this cause were often very heavy, 
those under the ship's counter resembling distant explosions 
of cannon. For four hours, we were shoved backwards and 
forwards, as either wind prevailed, and had great difficulty in 
43 



506 



JOURNAL. 



keeping our equilibrium. The meeting of two seas exhibits 
a phenomenon in some degree remarkable. They meet, and 
for an instant seem to be blended ; then re-appear, and pur- 
sue their opposite courses, without having their form disturb- 
ed, or their velocity impeded, by the conflict ; and this, for 
hours in succession. In the course of the day following, the 
wind blew from every point of the compass, with occasional 
calms and light pufFs ; the sea swollen into huge irregular 
humps, and rolling us prodigiously. 

Friday, 15th. — A squall this morning split our fore top -gal- 
lant sail, two royals and the jib, the fragments of which flap, 
ped obstreperously till they were taken in. Our latitude to- 
day was about 44°, longitude 40°, 49'. The next day, we 
were visited by another gale, which, much to our satisfaction, 
was of'short continuance. What an msignificant, and appa- 
rently helpless thing, is a ship in a gale at sea ! When seen 
reposing in motionless majesty in a dock, she looks as if no 
swell of the waves could heave her vast bulk, "though the 
waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains 
shake at the tempest of the same." But once abroad on the 
bosom of the mighty billows, with no object near with which 
to compare her, the deception vanishes. Our vessel, though 
of nearly four hundred tons burthen, is tossed and plunged 
like a little sail boat, and with motions almost as abrupt. No- 
thing indeed more strongly impresses the idea how contempt- 
ible are the works of man, when brought into comparison 
with the doings of the Creator, than the ease with which the 
largest ships are rendered the mere playthings of the winds 
and waves ; at the same time, nothing displays the proud tri- 
umphs of human science and art to such advantage, as the 
construction and navigation of a first rate vessel across the 
stormy ocean, to any given point on the globe. 

It is singular what a variety of appearances the ocean as- 
sumes, according to the state of its surface, and the light under 
which it is seen. Its general hue o^soundings is of a deep in- 
digo colour : while on soundings, even at a depth of two hun- 
dred fathoms, it is of an olive green ; and of a dirty brown in 
shoal water. So uniformly does this law prevail, that seamen 



IDLE HOURS AT SEA. 



507 



are seldom at a loss to determine, by the colour of the water, 
whether they are sailing over the fathomless depths of the 
ocean. I have often admired the rich hue presented on the 
sharp ridges of the waves, just as they begin to comh. Under 
a tolerably clear sky, they are of a most beautiful green, 
often faintly tinged with sapphire. Is it weakness or credu- 
lity to believe, that the ocaan has been rendered susceptible 
of such an infinite variety of beautiful forms and pleasing hues, 
for the purpose, among others, of cheering the heart of the 
mariner in his lonely path-way across the deep ? The slight- 
est variation in the direction or force of the wind, a current, 
a passing cloud, a gleam of sun-shine, are causes sufficient to 
clothe the ocean in a new dress, and impart variety to that, 
which would otherwise v/eary the eye by its uninterrupted 
sameness. Towards evening, the gale, which had abated its 
violence about mid-day, returned, veered round to the west- 
Avard, and continued blowing hard and dry through the night. 

Sunday, 17th. — To-day, we have had moderate weather 
again, but the sea has not yet rocked itself to rest. Our lit- 
tle congregation assemuled lor divme worsliip, but our devo- 
tions were interrupted by the unsteady motion of the ship. 
Towards evening, a brig hove in sight, the first vessel we had 
seen for eight or ten days. Like ourselves, she lay rolling 
helplessly on the agitated surface, the vv'ind having subsided 
into a perfect calm. Just at sun-set, the curling ridges assu- 
med the pale delicate green already mentioned, but faintly 
tinged in this instance with yellow ; the effect of the golden 
light poured upon them from a glorious western sky. 

The two following days we had gales, but they were of 
short continuance. From whatever quarter the wind arises, 
it soon shifts to a point between west and north, and termi- 
nates in a gale. We have consequently been driven far to 
the southward of our course, which is rather discouraging, at 
a season when northerly winds are most prevalent. I have 
formed many resolutions to be industrious ; but am mortified 
to think how little I accomplish. I read and write a little by 
turns — go upon deck — return, and resume my book or my 
pen, and lay them aside from sheer vacuity of mind. Then 



508 



JOURNAL. 



again we are so tossed to and fro, that one has occupation 
enough to keep himself in bodily completeness. My fellow 
passengers have all in their turn been sea-sick, and sometimes 
all together ; and it is quesiionable whether Archimides him- 
self could have solved a problem, while his ears were assail- 
ed by so many discordant sounds. What mere trifles will 
sometimes serve to amuse a vacant mind ! To count the 
waves, as they idly chafe along the ship's side; or -watch the 
bubbles as they are thrown aside by the bows, and burst, and 
disappear forever — to mark the heaves of the ship, as she 
plunges to meet the shock of the next billow, and the next, 
and the next, until all self-consciousness is lost in reverie — 
to view with deep and absorbing interest a race of porpoises, 
or watch the light librations of Mother Carey's chickens, now 
lianging suspended for a moment on the tip of a wave, and 
novv^ pursuing their flight after the vessel, in endless gyrations ; 
in occupations such as these, does the mind take refuge from 
the ennui of idle hours at sea. For some da3/s past, a num- 
ber of land-birds have alighted in our rigging, where they sit 
for a few moments, aild then fail upon deck and expire with 
exhaustion. On examining them, I have found their little 
bodies shrivelled and dried away to a skeleton. As we are 
at least a thousand miles from land, they must have been ma- 
ny days on the v>^ing ; and the case affords a striking instance 
of the power of strong excitement to prolong life. No sooner 
do they find a resting-piace, than nature sinks exhausted : and 
they expire in a fev/ minutes after they are taken. 

Wednesday,20th. — The ship's reckoning gives to-day 44° 
22' latitude, and 48° 21' longitude. The temperature of the 
water is 46°, having fallen 19° in 26 hours, a certain indica- 
tion of our approach to the Grand Bank. The sea, too, has 
exchanged its deep ocean blue for an olive green, the well 
known sign of being on soundings. The breeze, which 
sprung up favourably this morning, has become a gale from 
the north, rolling dovv^n upon us the worst sea we have yet 
seen. The ocean is raised into high, irregular bumps ; our 
decks are perpetually flooded ; and the rolling and tossing of 
the ship oblige us to hold on, or take our chance of a somer- 



THE GRAND BANK. ^^^ 

set. We have just passed a fragment of a wreck, apparent- 
ly the quarter deck of a vessel ; a melancholy object at sea, 
which cannot fail to remind one of the frailty of his own ark, 
when assailed by the fury of winged tempests. A ship and 
brig, are now in sight, the latter lying to, and the former 
running down upon her. Every little incident, like that of a 
vessel heaving in sight, dissipates for a moment the monotony 
of a mode of life like ours, and brings our little company on 
deck, when the telescope is immediately put in requisition. 
It is remarkable that, on the Bank, the atmosphere is rarely 
foggy with a northerly wind ; while it is generally thick with 
a soutlierly one. Perhaps it may be accounted for by the 
fact, that the moisture of a southerly breeze is condensed by 
the cold temperature of this region ; while the wind from the 
opposite quarter is already of a low temperature. A current 
is always setting across the Grand Bank from the Northern 
Ocean, which sufficiently accounts for this vast extent of shoal 
water. Meeting here with the Gulf stream, both currents 
deposit their sand, which has been accumulating for ages ; 
and in ages more may form the basis of a new island. The 
operation is precisely the same as that by which bars and 
shoals are formed at the mouth of a river, where the sand and 
earthy matter sv/ept down by the current subside, on meet- 
ing with tide waters. The soundings on the Grand Bank 
give a depth of about 200 fathoms; yet notwithstanding this 
great depth, the colour of the sea is perceptibly changed, as 
well as the deep, regular swell of the ocean. 

The next day, a fine breeze brought us into the longitude 
of 50'^ 45', quite to the western edge of the Bank, and there 
left us in a dead calm. Five or six whales have been sport- 
ing around the vessel as gracefully as their heavy natures 
would permit, and trying the strength of their forcing pumps. 
One of them paid us the compliment to raise his unv/ieldy 
bulk under our stern, and blow a column of water into the 
air. The captain estimated his length at seventy feet. To 
such xiovices as we were, it was far from being an uninterest- 
ing spectacle to see one of these leviathans rolling up Iris 
vast, rotund, black body, so near us. Although it is now a 
43* 



510 



JOURNAL. 



dead calm, all the usual harbingers of foul weather are gath- 
ering around us and over head. The sky is covered with a 
brassy looking haze ; mackerel clouds, and spots of a bright 
green, with scraps of rain-bows, are hung around the hori- 
zon ; and the sun is encircled by a halo tinged with prismatic 
colours — ail indicative of an approaching gale. The barome- 
ter, too, has fallen lower than we have observed hitherto ; 
the porpoises appear to be running for their lives ; and the 
gulls are assembling by myriads, and uttering their shrill 
screams as they tiock away towards the land. The last cir- 
cumstance forcibly recalled to my mind the passage in Vir- 
gil :— 

ad terrain gurgite ab alto, 



Quam multae glomerantur aves, ubi frigidus annus 
Trans pontum fagat." 

Another passage also proves, that the noisy clamour of sea- 
birds had not escaped the remark of this accurate observer 
of nature : — 

" Cum medio celeres revolant ex aequore mergi, 
Clamoremque ferunt ad litora." 

I need not add, that the latter sign is particularly mentioned 
by the poet, as an indication in his day of an impending storm. 
If it is asked, how a gull can know^ vv'hat the weather will be 
to-morrow ? It may be replied, — by the same cause which 
produces a fall of the mercury in the barometer, viz. a dimin- 
ished pressure of the atmosphere, which almost always pre- 
cedes a gale. Of this, even men of a delicate constitution 
are not insensible. A diminished pressure on the blood ves- 
sels of the animal system may reasonably be supposed to 
produce some change in the physical sensations ; and if va- 
rious kinds of vegetables feel its influence, and close up their 
leaves and flowers ; and if land birds are admonished, by an 
unerring instinct, to oil their plumage at the approach of a 
storm, the phenomenon of aquatic birds seeking the shore 
when a tempest is brewing, ceases to be wonderful. It is 
amusing to observe the fertility of a sailor's invention in find- 
ing out signs of a change of weather. Some of these are so 
ludicrously absurd, that they are equalled only by the spec- 



SIGNS OF WEATHER. 511 

ulations of moon-observing people on land. It is universally 
believed by them, that when porpoises are seen running oft 
at the top of their speed, foul weather may be expected. 
This may be well enough : but whether the gale will come 
out from the quarter towards which they are prosecuting their 
journey, is a point open to some degree of skepticism. 
Landsmen will do well however to keep their doubts to them- 
selves, even should they happen to observe some diversity of 
opinion among these prognosticators of a gale. 



CHAPTER LIV. 



EFFECTS OF A LONG GALE ON THE OCEAN BEAUTIFUL LAND BIRD 

GALE, AND LOSS OF THE RUDDER. CONSTRUCTION OF A TEMPORARY 

RUDDER ACCIDENTS ST. GEORGE's BANK — SUNDAY WHALES AR- 
RIVAL ON THE COAST LITTLE EGG HARBOUR FAVOURABLE WEATHER, 

AND ARRIVAL IN NEW-YORK. 

Friday, 22d. — We have experienced heavy squalls during 
the day from various quarters, which have excited a strange 
commotion in the deep. The sea is piled up in irregular 
heaps; the rain pours down in torrents, and the ship is en- 
veloped in a thick fog. The gale settled at last into the 
north-west, and blew with such strength as obliged us to 
heave to. The next morning it abated, but returned in the 
evening with greater fury than ever, after a succession of 
heavy squalls. Hove to under double-reef'd main topsail 
and mizzen staysail. 

Sunday, 24th. — The sea this morning presents a spectacle 
of indescribable majesty, the gale having blown steadily 
from the same quarter during the night, and with increasing 
violence. The short, broken waves, which prevailed on the 
first rising of the wind, have now become blended in long, 
high, majestick swells, roUing down upon us with a steady, 
regular motion, and a force which nothing seems capable of 



iil2 JOURNAL. 

resisting. The never ceasing variety of hill and dale pre- 
sented to our vievt^ ; the long-dravi^n, winding retreats, like 
hollow glades retiring among the hills of some sequestered 
landscape ; the endless changes in the features of this watery 
scenery ; the combing motion of the ridges as they bow 
beneath the force of the wind, combined with ideas of the 
resistless power of the element thus thrown into commotion ; 
form altogether one of the sublimest spectacles in nature. 
I know not that even the falls of Niagara surpass it, in the 
power of exciting ideas of sublimity. As I had never be- 
fore seen the waves running mountain high, I attempted to 
form some probable conjecture as to their dimensions ; and 
the known measurement of the ship furnished an object of 
comparison. The result was, that some of the highest waves 
were estimated to be between forty and sixty rods from ridge 
to ridge, and elevated thirty feet above the hollow space be- 
tween. Their height was less surprising to me than the 
long space which intervened. The force of the wind is more 
severely felt on the sea, where there is nothing to oppose its 
sweep, than on land, where its velocity is impeded by hills, 
groves, and obstructions of various kinds. Every shroud 
and piece of cordage becomes an ^olian harp ; and if the 
harmony is not in the sweetest unison, it cannot be denied to 
be sublime, especially when it is blended with the awful ac- 
companiment of the roar of waters. Between the squalls, 
the sun sheds a pale and sickly hght ; and tlie clouds appear 
like whitish vapours driving just above our heads at a furious 
rate. Our female passengers are quite exhausted with alarms 
and loss of rest ; 



Pontum spectabant flentes.- 



cunctasquQ profundum 



tsedet pelagi perferre laborem ;" 

and in truth we are all tired of gales. Towards evening 
•' the sun set up his back-stays ;" the wind was as high as 
ever, and the sea still higher. I am scribbling in the midst 
of a most disconsolate looking company. The ladies with 
their pale, hollow looks, are huddled into one corner of the 
cabin, prophesying nothing but evil, and will not be comfort- 



BEAUTIFUL LAND BIRD. 513 

ed ; the rudder, " grating harsh thunder,"' for all seems not 
to be peifecily right in that quarter, is jerking away at its 
lashings ; the bulk-head creaking ; the wind piping through 
the shrouds at a deafening rate, and the sea banging against 
the ship's counter, and giving us now and then a lurch, 
which threatens to deposit us all in a heap to leeward, with- 
out the precaution of holding fast. We have drifted about 
sixty miles to-day, and are once more in the gulf-stream as 
the temperature of the sea indicates. We assembled our 
little company in the cabin for divine worship, which was 
also attended by such of the officers as v/ere not on duty. 

The next day the gale died away in a succession of squalls, 
after blowing about seventy hours from the same quarter, 
leaving us to con-end v/ith a very broken, tumultuous sea. 
Carried away another jib-boom ; and had our foretopmast- 
staysail split by a sea jumping into it. 

Wednesday, 27th. — A fine southerly breeze frolicking in 
our sails, has had a wonderful influence in driving away 
the vapours from our company, and we are making all the 
«peea v/e can to get out of the guif-sireaui. Tlia ax'rivcil cf 
a new guest, too, has added to our slender stock of amuse- 
ments. At the close of the last gale, a beautiful land bird, 
of an unusual species, took refuge on board, and still remains 
with us. He has quite recovered from his fatigue, and hops 
about the deck, picking up the crumbs and seeds which we 
throw in his way. A kind of dish made on the deck witli 
oakum, holds his water, to which he regularly goes to wet 
his little bill. He seems thankful for these favours, and ap- 
pears to live quite happily with us. He is quite fearless, 
flitting about the ship from place to place, and alighting 
among the men ; but too fond of his liberty to allow himself 
to be taken. His size is something less than that of the 
robin, with a white short bill ; black legs and feet ; breast 
whitish, with a cravat of a dun red colour ; back and wings 
beautifully speckled with brown, white, and reddish spots. 
His playful gambols, and the quick and suspicious glance of 
his clear, bright eye, afford us no little amusement, destitute 
as we are of other resources. He is very strong and active. 



514 



JOURNAL. 



and indulges in long excursions from the ship ; but his fa- 
vourite station is on the quarter-deck by the steersman ; and 
in the chains, in fine weather. At night, he betakes himself 
to the mizen rigging ; but comes down early for his breakfast. 
It is not surprising that such a fine frank fellow should have 
become a universal favourite with the crew, who look upon 
his presence as a good omen. He must have flown many 
hundred miles before he took refuge in our ark ; but as he 
came on the wings of a tempest, his passage had doubtless 
been a short one. In the evening, the breeze had increased 
to a gale from the south-v/est, and all hands were employed 
in taking in sail. 

Thursday morning. — We have passed a \night of anxiety, 
and not entirely without reason ; for our rudder is gone ! To- 
wards midnight, the gale became a perfect hurricane ; but 
the captain, anxious to get out of the gulf stream before 
heaving to, stood on under reefed sails, until the wind had in- 
creased to such a degree as to render it impossible to take 
them in. When it became absolutely necessary to ease the 
bhip. the exDerimftnt wna ^^^(is v/ith ths iTidiii-tG^sciii v.'hich 
was rent into a thousand pieces, and completely blown from 
the yards, the moment it began to shiver in the wind. The 
fore-topsail was next tried, and shared the same fate, leaving 
a close-reefed foresail and mizen stay-sail to steady the ship. 
Sitting about eleven at night near the stern post, I observed 
that the rudder had an unusual play on its hinges, and heard 
a ringing as of broken iron. On going upon deck, I found 
the captain standing by the helm, which was lashed athwart 
the ship ; and to my enquiries whether the rudder was safe ; 
was informed, that the lower joints had given way, and that 
he expected it would all go presently. The ship had in fact 
ceased to feel it for some hours, and was left to herself, in 
the midst of a sea which was absolutely terrific. The sud- 
denness with which the gale came on had raised that peculiar- 
ly abrupt and dangerous sea, which is found only where a 
current prevails like the gulf stream ; and our lurches, when 
the ship fell off, became so heavy as to give cause for some 
anxiety. Standing on the quarter-deck, as the ship lay roll- 



LOSS OF RUDDER. 515 

ing helplessly in the troughs, and looking out through the 
thick darkness to the windward, my attention was caught by 
an almost perpendicular, mountainous sea, as white as a 
snow-bank, rolling down upon us ; and I had scarcely time 
to point it out to the notice of the captain, before it struck us 
broadside, and nearly brought our masts into the water. 
The ship lay for a minute or two poised on one side, trem- 
bling under the shock, and then slowly righted, with her deck 
flooded from stem to stern. In the cabin, every thing was 
thrown into confusion. Trunks had broken loose, and with 
chairs and other moveables, were performing a country 
dance on the cabin floor, to the unspeakable horror of the 
passengers. The gale continued to increase — the lurches 
became more heavy and frequent, and the jerking 
of the disabled rudder more violent, until about one o'clock ; 
when it was struck by a heavy sea, and twisted off" just above 
the water with a loud crash, as if the ship's stern had been 
rent asunder. The panic produced by such a shock may be 
easily imagined. To have communicated the cause would 
only have increased the alarm, and the passengers knew 
nothing of it till morning. About an hour after the accident, 
the wind began to abate its violence ; and by day-light had 
subsided into a moderate breeze. The ship steered admi- 
rably by her sails only ; but on a change of the wind in the 
morning to the north-west, she was carried round with it, 
and we are now steering towards Europe. A hundred 
fathoms of cable had been payed out to get her about ; but 
all to no purpose. A cross sea has arisen, and we are roll- 
ing on its agitated surface without being in the least degree 
masters of our course. 

When the sea had sufficiently gone down to allow of the 
attempt, the first care was to provide a substitute for a rudder ; 
and the ingenuity displayed by our captain in this business is 
worthy of all praise. To construct one in the usual way, with 
a preventer stern-post, would have required the labour of a 
fortnight ; and with such seas and weather as we have con- 
stantly encountered, it would have been nearly impossible to 
fix it in its place. The principle resolved upon was the same 



516 JOURNAL. 

as that of steering by an oar ; and although the machinery 
proved unequal to the heavy strain to which it was subjected 
in a rough sea ; yet it had the merit of being quite extempora- 
nepus, and answered the purpose after a fashion. A rudder 
like a dolphin's tail was formed, by nailing planks to the mar- 
tingal, which was made fast to the smaller end of a spare 
main-topmast. A spare main-yard was then lashed across 
the quarter-deck a few feet from the stern, and strengthened 
with braces fore and aft, and others going up to the head of 
the mizen-mast. A bridle was then fixed to the upper and 
lower angles of the rudder, on each side ; and to these were 
rigged guys, which, after being reeved over the sheaves at 
the ends of the yard, were brought forward to the capstan. 
The machinery was then thrown over the stern, loaded with 
some pigs of lead, and the large end of the spar made fast 
by a handspike passed through the fidd-hole, and lashed to the 
stern-posts. As the loading proved too heavy, it was again 
hauled upon deck, and fitted with a running jack, by which 
the weight could be regulated at pleasure ; and a lift passed 
up and made fast to the mizen mast head, to prevent it from 
sinking in a calm. Thus, within one day after the accident, 
arid twelve hours from the commencement of operations, we 
have a rudder ready for an experiment. By this time all 
hai.ds were exhausted, and the calm night which followed 
was most welcome to us all. Our poor bird was blown away 
in the gale ; and the frequenc);- with which his fate is regret- 
ted, shows how much we had become interested in the little 
stranger. 

Saturday, 30th. — We have had ample opportunity to test 
the strength and efficiency of our new rudder, which works 
as well, on the whole, as we had reason to expect from so 
hasty a production. In a squall this morning, one of the guys 
parted, by which the machine was rendered useless. Haul- 
ed it on board, doubled the guys, and re-shipped it for anoth- 
er experiment. The guys are made of a hawser, but prove 
unequal to the heavy strain in a rough sea. The wind has 
veered to every point of the compass ; the rain descends in a 
perpetual drizzle ; and every thing wears a cheerless aspect. 



ACCIDENT. 517 

to which the pecuUarity of our situation doubtless contributes. 
Our eyes are fixed alternately on the heavens, and on our 
frail steering gear, which certainly does not behave with all 
the decorum we could wish, in a jumping sea. The ladies 
are particularly alarmed at some of its strange gambols, and 
the loud thumping it makes against the stern-posts, as it churns 
up and down with the tossings of the vessel. 

Wednesday, Nov. 3d. — For three or four days past, we 
have made little progress, not being able to lie very near the 
wind which nas been generally adverse. We are now, how. 
ever, running seven knots an hour before the wind, which, 
from the known pertinacity of a Yankee North-easter, we 
have hopes will not leave us for some days. Steering, how- 
ever, proves not only an awkward, but a dangerous business, 
to the men at the capstan. Two or three days ago, a sailor 
had the handspike wrenched from him, by a jerk of the rud- 
der, and was knocked down by a severe blow on the back, 
which rendered him nearly senseless. To-day, a worse ac- 
cident occui'red, in wearing the ship. Both the men at the 
capstan were stretched on the deck at the same moment ; the 
one by a blow on the face, and the other by two severe ones 
on his side, by which two of his ribs were broken. He seem- 
ed to be in danger of immediate suffocation from an internal 
effusion of blood. A lancet was found on board ; but as no 
one knew how to use it, I ventured on the attempt, and with 
no bad success. The patient was almost instantly relieved ; 
and after depositing him in the steerage, I proceeded after 
the best of my knowledge to set his ribs. Some strips of 
light, worn out sail, made an excellent bandage ; and by rais. 
ing the patient up by the arms, and directing him to inhale a 
long breath for the purpose of distending his chest, the ribs 
which had shot by each other, were reduced to their proper 
places. Hove to just before sun-set in the midst of heavy 
squalls, and with a bad sea running ; but parted the weather 
guy in the operation, and split the butt end of the spar, by 
which the machine was rendered useless until repaired. We 
continued lying to till Friday, the wind still blowing a gale 
from the westward, and driving us out of our course. Re 
44 



5i3 JOURNAL. 

paired and shipped the ruddei-, and once more got on 
our course, with a light and variable wind. The gulls are 
again assembling about us, and flocking towards the land ; 
and our fears supply us with abundance of prognostica- 
tions in the appearance of the heavens, of another blow. 
Our latitude to-day is 40° 20', and longitude 65° 18', we 
having drifted about eighty miles to the eastward during the 
late gale. 

Saturday. — -Our fears have been realized, and we are now 
tossed by another tempest, as violent as any of thfe preceding. 
Three men more have been knocked down at the capstan, 
one of whom was struck senseless by a blow on the back of 
his head, which laid his skull bare. The lancet was again 
resorted to, and he began to show signs of life. On cutting 
away the hair, we found the flesh completely stripped from 
the skull ; but no fracture was perceptible. His escape with 
life was truly marvellous. Fortunately the gale was of short 
continuance ; and in the evening we were again enabled to 
commit our rudder to the sea, and display our canvass. Now 
that we are approaching the coast, we are not without appre- 
hensions, that our steering gear will fail us in the time of 
need, which renders the idea of a lee shore particularly un- 
comfortable. We are now on Geoi'ge's Bank, and surround- 
ed with tide-rips, having precisely the appearance of those 
at the mouth of a river. It is singular that the meeting of 
currents should have this effect, in such a depth of water as 
that beneath us. We can hardly persuade ourselves that we 
are not running on a shoal. 

Sunday, November 7th. — On reading the 107th Psalm, 
it appeared evident to me that the composer of it must have 
been at sea, and been an eye witness of the effects of a storm. 
The howling of the tempest, the piping of the blast through 
the shrouds, and the deep roar of the ocean, bore a sublime 
accompaniment to our religious service this morning. In my 
surgical capacity, I have now four patients under my care, 
and all "doing well;" although I am not without suspicions 
that their convalescence is rather to be attributed to strong 
constitutions, than to any particular skilfulness of treatment 



ARRIVAL ON THE COAST. 519 

On Tuesday, our rudder again became deranged ; and tlie 
process of hauling it on deck, repairing, and re-shipping it, 
was once more gone through. Discharged one of my pa- 
tients, and pronounced him fit for service. The others are 
able to walk upon deck. In a calm to-day, we had a number 
of whales, and the whole tribes of spouters about the vessel ; 
all seeming to take huge delight in blowing water into the air. 
As the sea was perfectly smooth, by going out on the bow- 
sprit, I could plainly see them at a considerable depth, arch- 
ing their backs into a crescent, and rubbing against each other 
with great apparent satisfaction. 

We continued to make a tolerably good westing with a 
northerly wind, till Friday, when the captain directed the lead 
to be thrown out, and bottom was found at twenty fathoms. 
At midnight, wore ship and stood to the eastward a few hours, 
to avoid running on the coast in the night. The next morn- 
ing, the man at the mast-head hailed us with the glad tidings 
of land a-head ; and by climbing into the rigging, we could 
plainly discern the low, distant line of the Jersey shore. As 
we continued standing in, we found we were opposite Little 
Egg Harbour, where a squadron of coasters lay at anchor, 
wind-bound, and waiting for a fair breeze. After being seven 
weeks tossed up and down in a tempestuous sea, and a part 
of that time in a crippled state, it was with no faint emotions 
of pleasure that we beheld the dim blue line stretching away 
in the horizon ; and this too, with a placid sea beneath us, and 
bright heavens above. 

Saturday. — The wind continued northerly, but growing 
lighter and lighter till towards evening, when it died away 
into a perfect calm. We are still 70 or 80 miles south of 
New- York ; and for the three or four days of our being on the 
coast, have been unable to work to the northward against the 
prevalent winds. Since we left port, the sun has never risen 
or set clear in a single instance ; and with a solitary exception, 
it has rained every day. Now, we feel that we are once more 
under ah American sky. 

Sunday, Nov. 14th. — The calm was succeeded by a light 
breeze, which sprung up this morning from the south-west. 



520 JOURNAL. 

The sea is as smooth as a mirror, the heavens clear, and the 
temperature of the air delightful. No time was lost in spread- 
ing all our canvass; and by the time we had begun to shape 
our course towards the land, the squadron of coasters, to the 
amount of fifteen or twenty, got under weigh, and were soon 
scattered like white specks over the bosom of the sea. To 
us, the scene Was exhilarating beyond description. In our 
disabled condition, we regarded it as a providential circum- 
stance, that we had such favourable weather for getting on 
the coast. The northerly winds had banished all apprehen- 
sions of being driven on shore, until our arrival off the Hook ; 
and now we are standing directly for port before a breeze as 
favourable as we could wish. The hills of Navesink, and 
then the light-house, appeared in sight ; and the light, dolphin 
forms of the pilot-boats were cutting the sea about us in all 
directions. Would any one wish to see an example of the 
most perfect elegance of form and gracefulness of motion ? 
Let him look attentively at one of the New-York pilot boats, 
dashing over the swell which breaks on the shoals of Sandy 
Hook. It seems a creature instinct with life — moves with all 
the grace of an opera dancer — manoeuvres with a beauty and 
precision perfectly admirable ; and seems not to regard the 
direction of the wind, in shaping its course. I know not that 
I have ever looked at any nautical display with more pleas- 
ure, than at the playful motions of these little barks, in a whole- 
sail breeze. A signal from our vessel brought one of them 
along side, which, after putting a pilot on board, accompani- 
ed us within the Hook. Here, we quit our weather-beaten 
vessel ; and letting ourselves down into the boat, we were 
landed at the wharf in New-York, about six in the evening, 
after a passage of fifty days. 



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